Dominoes
by Aurilia
Summary: There's a whole lot more to Jayne Cobb than meets the eye. Rating mainly for cussin' - what do you expect? It's Jayne. AU post-Objects in Space.
1. An Unexpected Proposal

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the writers, producers, et al of the television show 'Firefly' and its feature film 'Serenity'. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, internet persona, or other being, living or dead, is completely coincidental and unintentional unless otherwise noted.

**A/N:** Gorram it. I can't seem to get Jayne outta my head. He's driving me absolutely _batty_. I think he's a mite resentful that I killed him in my last fic; he keeps singing Supertramp's _The Logical Song_. I think he might be tryin' to tell me something; what do you think?

This is set after _Objects in Space_, but before the BDM – and since I tend not to consider canon to be anything but the series/film, it can rightly be considered AU. This is also set after Inara and Book have left Serenity. See A/N2 for more details.

Oh, and I'm running under the assumption that platinum is worth more than credits are, but I'm also assuming that platinum isn't readily accepted on Core worlds. Is this a pretty safe assumption? I like to think so.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter One: An Unexpected Proposal_

"Jayne, you got a wave comin' in," Wash's voice yanked the mercenary out of a dreamless slumber.

"Wha–?" Jayne startled into a sitting position and blinked up at the intercom speaker. "Huh?"

"Wave. You gonna take it down there?"

"Uh, yeah, just a second," he yawned and checked the time. It was only about half an hour before he usually got up, so he couldn't be too ticked about the interruption. He stretched and padded over to the shiny new cortex screen. After selling the Lassiter, much of the money had been spent on upgrading the ship – everyone now had a cortex connection in their bunks. Jayne tapped the button to accept the transmission.

"Erzi de yi zhi tiaozao chumo de shanyang xixue gou!" the man on the screen greeted Jayne enthusiastically. (1)

Jayne scowled, "It's too damn early in m'day ta be seein' yer ugly mug, Henley. See ya got m'letter?"

The older man nodded, rubbing a hand through thinning, white hair. "'At I did, Cobb. 'S why I waved. Gotta problem brewin' an' figured ya just might be the one ta take care o'it."

Jayne really needed coffee. "Duibuqi?" He scrubbed a hand across his face. "What the hell ya gettin' at, Hen? You know I'm contracted. Ain't gonna break it, this gig's pretty sweet'n'shiny." (2)

Henley rolled his eyes. "Know that, you erbaiwu. Ain't gonna be no conflict, can guarantee that." (3)

Jayne woke up a little more. "Cashy money?"

His caller laughed. "You know it!"

"How much we talkin' 'bout here? Ya wouldn'ta be wavin' iffen it was chump-change." Jayne couldn't help but be interested.

"Standard seven," Henley replied, "outta what we're chargin'. Still a pretty penny."

"Didn't ask for the ruttin' percentage," Jayne growled. "Need a figure here, Hen, else I'm just gonna hit 'end', you yige kuangre de niu de houdai huan bing de tujiu." (4)

Henley laughed. "Right back atcha, Jaynie-boy." At the deepening scowl from the mercenary, Henley sobered and said, "Half a mil, plat."

Jayne blinked. "Uh," he managed, then blinked again. "_What_?" He wriggled a finger in his right ear and shook his head. "Must be goin' as fengle as the gorram girl," he muttered. "You said 'half a million', right? In _platinum_?" (5)

Henley beamed at him. "Did at that! One _hell_ of a contract, ain't it?"

Jayne let out a low whistle. "Shiny, ta be sure, but what's the catch?"

"Always thinkin' there's a downside, ain'tcha?" Henley sighed.

"Come on, Hen! Figure like that one? Sure as shittin' I'm gonna be lookin' fer the gorram downside!"

Henley nodded, all traces of mirth and good humor gone more quickly than they'd surfaced. "An' that right there's why you've lived so ruttin' long, Cobb."

"I like ta think so. You gonna share the contract details, or am I gonna hafta hit 'end' after all?"

"Ita," Henley said.

Jayne closed his eyes. "Wo de ma," he breathed. On meeting his mentor's eyes once more, he continued, "That shitstorm's actin' up _again_? Thought the 'Liance put an end ta it!" (6)

Henley nodded. "So did we. But they started up again 'bout six months ago. 'Liance slapped a trade 'bargo on 'em just as soon's the first fed got nailed. Nothin' but people and their personal prop'ty's allowed on or off Ita 'til it cools down again."

Jayne pinched the bridge of his nose briefly and idly noticed that he was rapidly getting a headache. "Much as I'm sure we'd all rather Ita cools down on its own self, ya wouldn'ta been wavin' me if we really thought so. So, Hen – what's the gig?"

"If ya can talk yer cap'n inta it, it's gonna be three months of ferryin' folk 'tween Ita an' Jiangyin an' Persephone. Us 'at's goin' an' refugees comin'," Henley was all business in relaying the details.

"Us ta Ita, folk from Ita ta Jiangyin, then back ta do all over again," Jayne reiterated, just to make sure he had the straight of it.

Henley nodded. "O'course, iffen yer cap'n took on a few bits o'spare _cargo_ on these runs, ain't nobody gonna squawk on it none. Dong ma?" (7)

For the first time since waking up, a small smirk tugged at the corners of Jayne's mouth. "Shi," he said. "I'll see what I can do. Wave ya back when I got an answer." (8)

Henley nodded again. "Good. Wo hui zai da gei ni." (9)

"Later," Jayne replied and ended the connection. He stood there, staring at the now-dark screen for several long minutes before shaking himself and starting in on his morning routine. _Wuyong gorram fang pi Ita!_ He ducked into the miniscule shower stall that stood between the end of his bunk and the ladder-niche and rinsed sleep from himself. _Know it brings in a whole mess o'cashy money, 'specially for me'an'mine, but… Gorram it! Ain't they learned yet how ta get along? Ev'ry time this gou shi fengbao starts up, 'tain't them what started it as pays the price. _He finished in the shower and stepped sideways through the narrow door – something that had only taken him six bruised shoulders to get used to doing. (10)

_Last time, we lost how many? Near on a hunnert good folks, fourteen of 'em was ones I knew._ He dried off and slipped into some clean clothes. _Ones as was my responsibility. _Peering into the mirror above his pull-out sink, he sighed. "Wuyong gorram fang pi Ita," he grumbled, then brushed his teeth. _This should be easier 'an the last time was. Ain't gonna be on the ground none. Iffen Hen tries ta make me, I'll… Well, I dunno what I'll do, but I'm gonna make sure that lao bu side sure as fuck ain't gonna be likin' it any!_ (11)

Jayne returned his toothbrush to its place and picked up his razor. _Not gonna be doin' nothin' on the ground. Don't care how much Hen begs. Already done my bid on Ita, an' I _ain't_ gonna go back. Ta ma de wo ceshen yi cha shao, but I ain't doin' it!_ Finished with removing stubble, he switched over to trimming his goatee. _Just a transport job. Easy money. Don't even think Mal could fuck this up._ (12)

Morning ablutions completed, Jayne pulled on his boots and belt. With Boo strapped on his right hip, and Binky on his left, he climbed out of his bunk and headed to the galley. Since it was still relatively early, Wash was the only one already there. "Morning," he said when Jayne clumped into the room.

"Yeah," Jayne replied and headed straight for the coffee pot. Once he had a half a cup of the mud-textured caffeine floating in his bloodstream, he glanced over Wash's shoulder to see what the man was making for breakfast. "Oatmeal?" he grimaced.

"Yep," Wash replied with a bright grin. "And it's not just oatmeal-flavored protein, either – this is the real deal." He turned off the stove and grabbed a bowl from the counter next to it.

"That ain't food, ya know," Jayne drained his mug and quickly refilled it.

"Sure it is," Wash argued. "It's sensible and hot and delicious." The pilot added some reconstituted dried blueberries to his bowl, along with a dollop of sweetened, tinned milk.

"No, it ain't," Jayne replied. "It's chewy glop what's tasteless an'…" He shook his head. _It's been too shitty of a mornin' ta be arguin' 'bout the grub._ "Mal up yet?" he asked instead of continuing the argument.

Wash shrugged as he sat at the table. "Don't know, but I think I heard him rummagin' around down in the cargo bay," he punctuated his comment by shoveling a mound of faintly-blue glop into his mouth with an exaggerated _hmm_ of content.

Jayne repressed the urge to gag and headed for the cargo hold. Mal was indeed up, and poking through one of the half-dozen or so crates of whatnot carried over from previous jobs. "Lookin' fer sommat specific-like?" Jayne asked. He couldn't help but feel somewhat proprietary over the hold – it was his job, after all, to make sure all the cargo was loaded properly. _Last thing I need's Mal screwin' up a perfectly good system an' gettin' the pilot all ticked at me for bein' off-balance the next time we hit atmo._

Mal looked up as Jayne worked his way down the stairs. "Thought we had a box of blankets 'round here somewhere?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, they're over in the stack behind m'weights."

Mal continued talking while Jayne headed over to the stack in question and shifted the boxes there around to get to the one in question. "Climate-control for my bunk shorted out – colder than a well-digger's belt-buckle in there now – and Kaylee said she needs to replace…" he tried to recall the name of the part but came up blank. "Well, we need to put down near a decent yard in order for her to fix it."

Jayne kicked the crate of blankets over to Mal. "There ya go," he said. "How long 'til we hit Hardley?" Hardley was one of Persephone's moons.

"'Bout sixteen hours," Mal replied, opening the crate. He grabbed two of the brown blankets off the top and closed it again.

"Finish up there, we can jaunt over ta Persephone, let Kaylee-girl fix what needs fixin'." Jayne picked up the crate and moved it back to its place.

"Sounds like a plan," Mal agreed, but only because he'd been thinking the exact same thing.

"We got more work lined up yet?" Jayne asked, not looking at Mal.

The captain shook his head. "Not just yet. Pro'ly call on Badger once we hit Persephone. He usually has something worthwhile."

Jayne let out a snort. "Sure, he's got payin' gigs, but don't they usually wind up with ya gettin' shot?" He moved the last crate back into position and turned around to face Mal.

"Not always," Mal hedged. "An' it ain't like it's Badger's fault. He may be a stinkin' little weasel, but he, personally, ain't tried ta kill me yet."

"It's that 'yet' what's got me worried," Jayne teased. He dropped the faint smirk and sighed. "Got wind o'somethin' ya might be interested in."

Suddenly wary, Mal tucked the blankets he'd grabbed under his arm. "An' just what might that be?"

"Steady pay for the next three months, at least," Jayne replied. "Mostly folks, but could work some cargo in around 'em, too."

Mal grimaced. "Passengers don't pay near enough, Jayne, an' they're always more trouble than they're worth."

Jayne shook his head. "Not 'xactly passengers, Mal – consider 'em livin' cargo, like the cattle was. Friend o'mine's offerin' a heafty sum ta work for 'im fer a spell."

The mercenary could immediately see that Mal had jumped straight to the wrongest conclusion he possibly could. The captain got a hard look in his eye and straightened up, bringing to Jayne's mind the memory of a bantam rooster they'd had back home when he was a kid. "Ain't no gorram sanci zuzhou slaver!" (13)

Before Mal could get any more worked up – and likely take a swing at Jayne – the mercenary glared at him. "Ain't like that, Mal. Thought ya knew m'own stance on those ruttin' hundans." (14)

Seeing that Jayne was about as deadly-serious as Mal had ever seen him, Mal backed down a little. "'Scuse me, but you tend ta get a li'l blind where money's concerned." Jayne's glare upped in power some and Mal figured he was about three wrong words from getting himself decked, captain of the boat or no. "Hows about ya explain it to me, then?"

"Ever hear 'bout Ita?"

"One of Jiangyin's moons. Got a powerful lot of factories, don't they?"

Jayne shook his head, "Right on the 'moon o'Jiangyin' part, but the one yer thinkin' of is Darwin. Ita's the one wi' all the forests. Paper an' lumber're what they do." Mal made a 'go on' motion. "There's two main companies what own most of it – Blue Sun, no shocker there, an' Kepler, Inc. Ev'ry coupla years, one or the other tries ta take over completely, tries ta buy out, scare off, or kill off the other."

"So, what's this got ta do with us?"

"I'm gettin' ta that bit!" Jayne picked up his half-empty mug from where he'd sat it on his weight bench when he went to move the boxes. He sat down and finished off the now-cold dregs it contained. "The companies behind it hire mercenaries to do the dirty work." Mal nodded, knowing that there was no way in hell the Alliance would take kindly to a corporate entity using feds. "Mostly dumbass freelancers," Jayne snorted and Mal's eyes narrowed. _This mean what I think it does?_ Jayne didn't notice the shifting of Mal's expression and continued, "Mainly 'cause Blue Sun an' Kepler didn't wanna shell out the extra ta get quality folk. But someone caved fer this latest go-round."

"So it'd be shuttlin' mercenaries, then?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah."

Mal shifted, tried to cross his arms over his chest, but was halted by the presence of the blankets. "Don't like the idea of a buncha mercs on my boat, Jayne."

Jayne sighed. _Don't much like the idea m'own self, but m'reasons an' yers are pro'ly worlds apart._ Out loud he said, "Ain't like that, Mal. Ain't gonna be no dumbass freelancers. Guild mercs got rules, an' we follow 'em." He didn't notice the slip of his tongue, but Mal did. "Seen what happens when they don't an' won't be no trouble."

"Still don't much like it," Mal insisted. He'd only heard vague rumors about Guild mercenaries; mostly that they were the best that money could buy.

"Pays half a mil, plat, for three month's shuttlin'," Jayne said. "Possibly more, iffen it drags on longer."

"Still don't – wait." The number finally sank into Mal's mind. "_What?_"

"Half a million, platinum," Jayne repeated. "Takin' Guild mercenaries ta Ita from the Hall on Persephone, any refugees from Ita over ta Jiangyin, then back ta Persephone for another load."

"Half a mil…" Mal felt a little faint at the number.

"An' the extra water an' food, 's well as the fuel, is all footed by the Guild." Standard procedure when hiring a ship in this manner.

Mal forcefully ejected the sudden daydream of giving Serenity a bones-out rebuild. "Sounds all manner of shiny, but how do I know they'll behave?"

"Any of 'em don't," Jayne's expression took on a strangely protective glint, "an' I'll space 'em m'self. They know the rules, an' what comes of not followin' 'em."

Mal considered for all of three seconds. "We'll give it a try, then. Any problems, though, and I ain't gonna keep on." He left Jayne and headed upstairs.

_Guess I ain't the only one what can be 'blinded by money'._ Jayne smirked to himself and tried to finish off his coffee, only to discover the mug was empty. "Gorram it." He scowled at the cup.

* * *

**A/N2:** Am I the only one who wonders where the showers are on Serenity? Since nothing I've researched indicates there even _are_ any, I've decided to give each bunk their own, with a slightly larger room for the whole of the passenger dorms to share. If anyone has a better idea, let me know, please!

I don't really know, at this time, just where I'm headed with this – unlike _Brompton Cocktail_, I do NOT have an ending already in mind, so updates _will_ run slower than BC's did. I only have a few vague notions at this time (mostly small details that I eventually want to work into the story). That said, I'd love to hear suggestions, if anybody has a mind to do so – may not use 'em, but I'd still love to hear about them.

And anyone who has read a lot of what I write knows I'm a big fan of Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series. Yes, how I've envisioned the Mercenary Guild is heavily inspired by how hers was set up in _By the Sword_, so no, you're not imagining anything.

Translations are as follows (and if anyone else out there has better ways to say what I meant, please lemme know – also if you'd rather I _not_ include the translations, please say as much. Thankee kindly!)

1.) _Erzi de yi zhi tiaozao chumo de shanyang xixue gou_ – 'son of a flea-infested goat-sucking dog', translation by Google.

2.) _Duibuqi_ – 'excuse me', translation by Google.

3.) _Erbaiwu_ – 'idiot', translation from Wikipedia.

4.) _Yige kuangre de niu de houdai huan bing de tujiu_ – 'offspring of a rabid cow and a diseased vulture', translation by Google.

5.) _Fengle_ – 'loopy in the head', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

6.) _Wo de ma_ – 'mother of god', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

7.) _Dong ma_ – 'understand', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

8.) _ Shi_ – 'affirmative', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

9.) _Wo hui zai da gei ni_ – 'I'll talk to you later', translation by Google.

10.) _Wuyong, Fang pi, Gou shi fengbao _ – 'useless', 'bullshit', 'shitstorm', translations by Wikipedia and Google.

11.) _Lao bu side – _'old man' (derogatory), translation by Wikipedia.

12.) _Ta ma de wo ceshen yi cha shao_ – 'fuck me sideways with a spork', translation by Google.

13.) _Sanci zuzhou_ – 'thrice damned', translation by Google.

14.) _Hundan_ – 'bastard', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.


	2. Revelations

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

**A/N:** I really really really hope that I was clear in this chapter.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Two: Revelations_

The drop on Hardley went – wonder of wonders – according to plan, mainly because it was entirely legal. Three hours later, and they were landing at their 'usual' spot at the Eavesdown Docks on Persephone. The crew assembled in the cargo bay. "Kaylee – you go an' find whatever it is ya need to get my bunk toasty again," Mal ordered. "Wash, you go with her. Zoë, you an' Jayne're with me. Doc, you an' that sister of yours stay aboard for now. Lock up while we're gone. Shouldn't be more 'an a few hours."

Simon opened his mouth to argue, but reconsidered. "How long will we be staying?" he asked instead.

"Kaylee?" Mal asked.

"Shouldn't take more than an hour or two ta fix the controls in your bunk, cap'n," she replied. "But since we're ground-side, I wanna check the entry couplings again. Tolja two months ago we needed replacements, else we're gonna lose the primary buffer panel."

Mal scratched the back of his neck. "Didja? Don't rightly recall. Check on them, too, when you're out scroungin'. If ya can get 'em for a good price, how long will it take ta replace 'em?" Even with all the upgrades they'd made, Mal still had a decent chunk of the Lassiter money left over.

Kaylee scrunched her forehead and quickly made a good guess. "Pro'ly 'bout a day, maybe a day-and-a-half at the outside."

"There ya go, doc," Mal made a gesture to Kaylee. "At least a day dirtside, assumin' Kaylee finds the parts she needs. Why? You got somewhere ya need ta be?"

Simon shook his head. "Not particularly, though we do need to restock a few supplies in the infirmary."

Mal nodded. "Figured on that. We'll resupply come mornin' regardless on what Kaylee manages ta find. If those couplings ain't part of 'em, we'll take off 'round noon I'm thinkin'." He looked around at his crew. "Well, let's get to it, folks."

After Wash and Kaylee headed off after parts, Mal looked at Jayne. "Where we headed?" he asked, side-stepping around a rather inconveniently-placed contortionist display.

Jayne whistled sharply, halting an empty bicycle-hack in its tracks. "The Hall," he said to Mal, climbing aboard the pedal-powered taxi. As Zoë and Mal found their own places on the tiny cart, Jayne tapped the middle-aged man running the taxi on the shoulder, "Yong bing goghui dating," he told the driver, handing over a couple of platinum coins, "de guaijiao chu de songshu he di sishiwu." (1)

The man nodded, "Shi de, xiansheng." (2)

A squeaky horn mounted to the handlebars of the hack cleared a path as the man started pedaling. Jayne settled in the seat and glanced at Mal and Zoë. Mal looked thoughtful and Zoë… Well, to an outsider, one would think Zoë was simply bored as hell – _or maybe a love-bot whose face controls all shorted out_ – but Jayne knew her well enough to see that one eyebrow was hitched just a fraction higher than the other. "What?" he asked, somewhat defensive.

"Didn't say a word," Zoë replied.

Jayne rolled his eyes. "Ya don't hafta. Can see it on yer face."

Zoë chose not to reply, instead she asked, "Just why are we going to the Mercenary Guild Hall?"

Mal answered for Jayne, "Seems we might be able to make a pretty sum makin' like troop transport for 'em."

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Zoë replied.

Jayne gave a mental sigh. _Ain't like we're xiniu freelancers, but also ain't like Zoë knows a Guild merc from a hole in the ground, either. They gotta see for themselves we ain't freelancers. _(3)

Mal replied to Zoë's question with a small shrug. "Can't hurt to hear them out, Zoë, not for the amount of money I heard." The remainder of the ride passed in silence.

Eventually, the pedicab pulled to a halt in front of a tall stone wall. Stylized engravings of various animals decorated its surface, including a long Chinese-style dragon, close to a heavy wooden gate. The gate itself was standing wide open, but it was easy to see that it was decorated with a bronze inlay of a stylized sun, separated into an interesting yin-yang pattern. To either side of the gate stood a guard, wearing a simple black uniform that had silver accents along the seams and holding a Hudie 297 assault rifle. As the trio from Serenity approached, Jayne stripped his heavy canvas coat off, revealing a plain black t-shirt whose only decoration was a clear oval of fabric over his tattoo and metallic gold trim along the edges of his sleeves. (4)

Jayne stepped through the gates about four feet in front of Mal and Zoë, but when they tried to follow, the guards immediately moved to step in their way, rifles at the ready. "Uh, Jayne?"

He halted at the uncertain tone in Mal's voice and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, for the love of…" he muttered, then yelled at the guards, "Let 'em pass, ya ruttin' ru xiu wei gan xinshou! They're with me." The guards didn't say anything, but they did step aside. Zoë and Mal gave each other a particularly strong 'WTF' look and hurried to catch up with Jayne, who had strode up to a small building that barred the path completely. "…two visitors, too, Chance," they heard as they halted to either side of the big man. (5)

Through the window, they could see another guard in black-and-silver, though this one's uniform also sported the stylized sun yin-yang on his sleeves. "Been a while, ain't it?" the man, presumably Chance, replied while digging into the top drawer of a filing cabinet.

"Meh," Jayne replied. "Not 't'all. Only been, what? Four years?"

"Like I said," Chance replied, pulling a pair of red ribbons out of the drawer. "Been a while." He slid the ribbons through a slot under the window. "Still know your way around?"

Jayne took the ribbons and nodded. "Like I'm 'bout ta forget. Xiexie, Chance. See ya," he turned from the window. He took in the odd expressions of his crewmates. Mal's was a particularly entertaining shade of 'just putting things together', while Zoë's had a frankly skeptical odor surrounding it. Smirking lightly, he handed one ribbon to each of them. "Tie it around yer arm," he instructed. "Lets folk know ya ain't tresspassin', an' ya won't wind up shot, nor worse." (6)

Once their ribbons were secured in place, Jayne stepped over to a small side-door set into the wall that followed on either side from the gate to the guardhouse. "You wanna tell me just how in the jiu jie diyu I can afford a Guild merc?" Mal asked while watching Jayne dig into his pockets for his access card. (7)

Jayne swiped the card into a reader, then pressed his hand against the biometric scanner. "Ain't like ya hired a whole company, Mal," Jayne replied. "Just me on my lonesome."

"An' were you ever plannin' on _tellin'_ me?" Mal's voice was starting to get that whiny edge of anger under it that set Jayne's teeth on edge.

"Weren't none o'yer business," Jayne said, pushing open the door. He gestured for Mal and Zoë to precede him.

They stepped through the door and into a large courtyard. Off to the right a group of about twenty boys and girls in their early teens – all wearing jumpsuits in the same shade of forest green – were being walked through a lesson on knife-fighting. The instructor glanced up and halted mid-word. "Aiya, women wanle now!" the instructor shouted, grinning in their direction. "Jayne Cobb! Get your lazy pigu over here an' show these wuzhi de haizi how it's done!" She interrupted Mal before he could say anything else. (8)

Jayne glanced up at the main building and then back at the group. "Hell," he muttered. "Can't, Carmine! Gotta see Henley!" he shouted back.

"Henley can wait! Get over here!" The instructor stood tall and pulled a bowie knife not unlike Jayne's Binky from a sheath on her hip. "Won't take but a minute an' ya _know_ it!"

Jayne shoved his jacket at Mal, a bright smile on his face. "Hold this a sec," he said, not even looking at him. He drew Binky and jogged over to the group. Mal glared after him, but followed with Zoë.

The group of kids and their teacher stood in a disorganized knot around a small pit in the stone paving filled with soft sand. They easily made space for the newcomers, and only one or two of them eyeballed Mal and Zoë – most were busy watching the red-headed woman and Jayne. The pair stepped into the sand pit and faced each other from a distance of about five feet or so. The woman's outfit was nearly identical to Jayne's, with loose-fitting cargo pants, combat boots, and a plain black t-shirt with gold trim, though hers was lacking the clear patch that Jayne's had, instead it sported the Chinese character for 'teacher' on her right breast. They held their respective blades up in an odd salute, then chorused, "Goumai he zhifu." (9)

What followed looked nearly choreographed. The pair began sparring, holding nothing back, yet neither managed to land more than a glancing blow. "You're outta practice," Carmine taunted as she flipped Jayne onto his back.

Sweeping her feet out from under her, he laughed, "Seems like you are, too."

Parry, blow, strike, counterstrike, kick, block, and sweep, the pair kept at it for close to three full minutes with the sun glinting off of their blades before they halted in a very close grapple. Carmine had her knife at Jayne's throat, but Jayne's was tapping lightly against her femoral artery. They nodded to each other and backed away, neither even breathing hard. "And that, class, is how it's done," Carmine faced her students while sheathing her knife.

Jayne put Binky away. "Can I get on with what I was doin', nianling banlu?" (10)

Carmine smiled at him and nodded. "Xiexie, Jayne. If you're stickin' 'round a bit, I'll drop by later." (11)

It was hard to mistake the flirtatious look on her face. Jayne was tempted, but shook his head. "Nah, Carmine. Got shit ta get done. Ain't stickin' more 'an a few hours." He stepped out of the sand pit and headed towards the main building, ignoring the odd expression on Zoë's face while grabbing his jacket from Mal.

Once they were a few dozen paces from the group, Mal jogged a little to get in front of Jayne and halted. "One," he said, poking Jayne, "what the _hell_ was that? And two, whaddaya mean it ain't my business? Anything on my boat's my business!"

Mal flinched when Jayne's large hand suddenly closed around his wrist in an iron grip. He fully expected to feel bones begin to grind together, but though he doubted he could pry his fingers off his arm, Jayne wasn't using enough pressure to so much as bruise a ripe tomato. Jayne leaned in close to Mal's face. "Listen up, Mal, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once – you ain't on yer boat right now." He let go of Mal's wrist. "An' this ain't the time nor place for the discussion ya want."

Mal opened his mouth, temper flaring and intending to give Jayne a piece of his mind, when Zoë's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "He's right, sir," she said. "This isn't Serenity. When we get back, _then_ you can rake him over the coals." The 'and I'll help' was implied.

While Mal had been seething at once more not having been told something he felt was his right to know, Zoë'd been paying attention. She'd seen how Jayne's posture had shifted slightly as he'd walked through the gates, becoming both straighter and less wary. It had become even more so when they'd entered the side-door into the courtyard. Even as he seemed to become ever more relaxed, he also seemed to take on a strangely confident air that lacked his usual cocky overtones, much like a cat coiled in the sun, lazy and liquid from the heat, but ready to pounce at no notice at all. Jayne gave her a weirdly perceptive glance, like he knew what she was thinking, before turning and leading them towards the door to the main building.

The building itself looked like a cross between an ancient Greco-Roman temple and a modern chrome-and-glass business office, with accents of Chinese pillars and a set of rain gutters that were carved to look like dragons. The inside was a similar hodgepodge of cultures and timeframes, with dark wood paneling on the walls, pale yellow stone floors, and a multitude of decorative weapons lining the walls, each with a small engraved brass plaque mounted on the wall under it. The main entryway was approximately thirty feet front-to-back, ran the whole width of the building, and continued upwards a complete four stories. Rows of balconies for each floor looked down on the large open space. Scattered seating clusters of benches and chairs and low tables cluttered the floor.

On the second half-circle of balcony on the first level up from the floor on which they stood, a wiry man – roughly the same height as Mal – with snowy white hair waved a hand at them. "Hey, Cobb, meet ya down in the Ballista Room!" the man shouted before quickly disappearing through a doorway.

Jayne nodded, even though the man could no longer see him, and strode towards one of the many doors lining the inside wall of the room. It opened into a corridor that could have easily been in any office building ever constructed, with beige walls, a drop-tile ceiling, and plain, tile flooring. It was wide enough that four men Jayne's size could easily walk side-by-side if they chose. He led the way past several more doors, both single and double-sized, and two elevator alcoves before ducking through an archway.

A large, wooden crossbow – the bow was nearly ten feet long – sat on a wheeled contraption in the center of the room. Several small tables, each seating four, were scattered around it, and one entire wall was a digital 'window', displaying an animated artist's rendering of an ancient Roman city. The white-haired man from the balcony rose from his seat at one of the tables, but said nothing.

Jayne drew his blade again, the man doing likewise as Jayne strode over. Much like he'd done with the instructor out in the yard, they lifted their blades in a salute, "Goumai he zhifu." Then, instead of fighting, they both flicked their knives, point-first, into the tabletop. (12)

"Have a seat," the man spoke to Mal and Zoë. "A greenie should be in shortly with some coffee."

Once settled at the table, Jayne made a quick round of introductions. "Henley, this is Cap'n Mal Reynolds, an' his first mate, Zoë Washburne. Mal, Zoë, this is Master Roger Henley."

"Hear ya maybehaps have some work for me, Mr. Henley," Mal said, settling his elbows on the table.

Henley nodded. "That I do," he replied. "Though ya can just call me 'Hen', if ya'd rather."

"I'll keep it in mind," Mal said. "What about this job? I heard me a number that _can't_ be right."

The man smiled, "I s'pose I can see how it might be unbelievable at first. But Guildsmen don't come cheap, an' Kepler ordered six companies. Your cut's the goin' rate of seven percent of the fee they're payin' us. We'll cover the cost of food for our own, the extra water, an' the fuel used. You ain't gonna be asked ta do any more than drop 'em off an provide a way off that gorram rock for any who want it. An' afore ya ask, any discipline problems ya might be worried on ain't gonna be a problem – it's yer ship, an' yer allowed any corrective measures ya deem fittin', though if anyone winds up dead, we do like ta know the whys and wherefores on it."

Mal looked surprised. "Didn't expect that," he said.

"Standard procedure," Henley said.

"How many to a company?" Zoë asked.

"Fifteen to ninety, dependin' on specialty," Henley explained. "But Kepler specified skirmishers, so it'll be fifteen folk on each run from here ta Ita. I'll leave it ta y'all ta decide how many ya can take from Ita ta Jiangyin, an' o'course ya will be empty comin' back ta Persephone." He paused as the promised 'greenie' showed with a tray of coffee. Once the trainee in his green coverall left, Henley sipped at his mug. "So… Whadaya say?"

"Half a million platinum seems too good to be true," Mal mused. "'Specially for six trips from here to Ita."

"Ain't six trips. Two companies caught a lift on an Atlas headed out thataway, so it's just the four. Could be more, though, if this drags on much longer, but iffen that happens, we'll renegotiate, should ya still be interested."

Mal added sugar to his own mug. "Even so, still sounds unbelievable."

Henley chuckled. "Ya'd be surprised how often I hear that, but it's on the level, swear on m'own dear momma's grave 'tis."

Further discussion was paused at the reappearance of the trainee in green coveralls. "Yuanliang ruquin, Master Henley," the kid hurried up to the table while speaking. "But there has been dui huangjin dai yige tiaozhan yijing fachu Cobb, xiansheng." (13)

Jayne groaned. "Zaogao! This is why I ain't been back, Hen!" he complained, loudly enough to make the greenie wince and step back. (14)

Henley ignored Jayne's outburst and asked, "Who?"

"Silverman Lofgren, xiansheng," the kid replied, tugging nervously on his sleeve. (15)

"Ta made!" Hen sighed, closing his eyes. "Thought that zifu de shagua was still playin' bodyguard to the senator's kid." He opened his eyes and asked, "When'd he get back?" (16)

"Yesterday, xiansheng," the kid said. "Snuck in after-hours." (17)

"Figures," Henley rolled his eyes. "Tell that gou niang yang de to meet us out by the practice pit in ten minutes." (18)

"What's going on?" Mal asked, after the greenie had left.

Hen and Jayne stood, sheathing their blades. Jayne stalked towards the door, leaving Henley to explain, "Guild rules, Cap'n Reynolds. One o'the ways ta advance in the Guild is ta issue a challenge to a higher-ranking member. Iffen the challenger wins, he gets ta add some shiny decorations to his uniform an' pay for standard jobs like bodyguardin' increases." He escorted Mal and Zoë back in the direction they'd come. "Iffen the fool don't win, which I'm bettin'll be the case here – Lofgren's a cocky li'l shit – he gets knocked down a rank… if he survives."

"Excuse me?" Zoë asked.

Hen grinned. The trio passed the same group of greenies from earlier as they filed into a cafeteria. Once past the rambunctious crowd, he clarified. "Usually, it ain't an issue, but we don't hold with someone tryin' ta jump too fast. Ta be totally honest, I hope Jayne cuts that ruttin' hundan's throat. He only _just_ passed all his classes, but still thinks he's the best thing walkin'. Iffen it weren't for the fact I owed his pop a favor, I woulda recommended Lofgren go freelance." Henley opened a side-door, and motioned for his guests to go on through. (19)

"May I ask –" Zoë began, but Hen cut her off.

"Freelancers are what give mercenaries a bad name. They ain't bound by Guild law, so's they tend ta act like scum," Henley said as they passed through a room decorated with what appeared to be examples of knives throughout history – everything from bone-hafted stone right up to the latest carbon-fiber and ceramic jobs. "Act like? Hell, they tend ta _be _scum. Now, I'd be the first ta admit that the image comes in handy, most o'the time. Ain't met a man yet what wanted a _smart_ merc."

"But don't the feds tend ta get a mite tetchy when bodies start showin' up?" Mal asked.

Henley shrugged, "If they was fine, upstandin' citizens, sure. But mercs? Not even freelancers are given more 'an just a perfunctory investigation, one of 'em winds up dead. If it's a Guild merc, they simply give us the intel an' let us handle it on our own. We'll let 'em know iffen it was internal or somethin' they need ta get involved with."

"Huh?" Mal was slightly confused and it showed.

Henley opened another door, this one leading to the main room and doors to the outside. "The Guild's self-governing, Cap'n Reynolds. We take care o'our own problems, a lot like the whore-guild does. Only difference is that they maintain their independence 'cause there ain't a politician born what can keep his damn mouth shut after sexin'."

Mal snickered, while Zoë asked, "If blackmail, or the threat of it, is how the Companion Guild maintains autonomy, then what do you use?"

Hen paused by the door to the courtyard and looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "Iffen you was the Alliance, would _you_ wanna go up against more 'an two-hunnert-fifty _thousand_ folk, all of which have _at least _six years' learnin' on all the various an' sundry ways ta kill a man? Even their best feds only get 'bout two month's trainin'. The only ones they got what'd give any Guild merc cause for alarm'd be their assassins – call 'em operatives, they do – an' even then, iffen it was anyone higher up 'an a decorated Silverman, I'd put my money on the Guildsman." Without waiting for a reply from either Mal or Zoë, he opened the door and headed towards where Jayne was standing, staring at the sand-pit, his arms crossed over his chest and scowling.

"I ruttin' hate this," Jayne complained as the triad of his mentor and crewmates joined him at the pit.

"Know that, huzi," Hen said, laying a hand on the taller man's shoulder. (20)

"Know what his choice weapon'll be?" Jayne asked.

"Longsword," Hen replied. "Thinks just 'cause he scored best in his class with one…"

Jayne smirked. "One in ev'ry class, ain't there?"

The sound of heavy footsteps clicking on the stone pavement had the group turning to see a very large, yet young, man striding across the courtyard. He was fully three inches taller than Jayne, with shoulder-length blonde hair, and wore the standard black uniform with silver trim – sans any further decorations – that the guards by the gate had worn. Across his back were a pair of the largest swords Mal had ever seen outside of unlikely cortex vids.

Once Lofgren had joined the group, Jayne gave him a once-over, noticing that the younger man was roughly twenty or so, and though he was taller, his muscles were the large, bulky type built up for simply show. The fact that he'd heard him crossing the courtyard also told Jayne that the kid was either arrogantly cocky or simply didn't have the control to move silently. _Or both. Pro'ly both._ "Challenge accepted," Jayne said.

Lofgren unbuckled the swords he carried and held the pair out to Jayne. Jayne took hold of each one in turn, before selecting the blade in Lofgren's right hand – it was about half an ounce lighter than the other. He removed it from the sheath and flicked the blade with his fingernails, then held it close to his ear. It rang with a humming 'C' note, with no odd vibrato undertones that would indicate weaknesses along the blade. The handle was wrapped with synthetic sharkskin, and the hilt and pommel were simply shiny steel, unadorned with fripperies. Though Jayne didn't think much of the man, he had a healthy respect for the sword.

Jayne again handed Mal his jacket, then began to unbuckle his gun belt. "You gonna take all day, lao piao?" the kid asked, standing in the sand pit. (21)

"Hold yer horses, xiao nanhai, 'less ya really _want _me ta react on instinct an' shoot ya," Jayne replied, handing his belt to Zoë for safekeeping. (22)

He sat the sheath for the sword down next to the one the kid had left behind and jumped into the pit. The pair faced one another and held up the swords so the hilt crosspiece was level with the spot just below their eyes. Mal was expecting another ritual greeting of 'bought and paid for', but instead they chorused, "Di yidi xie." (23)

What followed had Mal realizing he'd asked the wrong person for lessons back when Wing had dueled him. Jayne was obviously the better swordsman, using Lofgren's longer reach against him. After only a couple of blows, he could see what Inara had meant when he'd mentioned Wing had been toying with him – Jayne was doing the exact same thing with the kid.

"You can chat, if ya like," Hen said. "Ain't gonna distract Jayne none."

"How long's this gonna take?" Mal asked, glancing at his watch. "Don't mean ta be rude or nothin', but we got other things that need doin' t'day."

Jayne's sword darted out and cut a thin trail across the back of Lofgren's hand, startling the kid into dropping his blade. "Just about done, Mal," Jayne said, not taking his eyes off Lofgren. Jayne's sword flashed out once more, slicing a three-inch gash in Lofgren's left cheek, right over his cheekbone. "Shagua, you ain't worth the effort ta kill." (24)

The kid's bleeding hand reached up to his bleeding cheek. Disbelief was written large on his face, with an undercurrent of anger. Before the kid could do something really stupid and actually _say_ something, Hen cleared his throat. "Ya stepped beyond yer abilities, Lofgren. Take it in good grace yer still breathin'."

The kid stalked over to where he'd left the sheath for his sword and snatched up both, angrily tossing them to Jayne before stomping back to the building. "Kid ain't gonna learn, is he, Hen?" Jayne asked, cleaning the blood off his new blade, then sheathing it.

"Sadly, I don't think so," Henley agreed. "Times like these, I wish an upper could challenge the kiddies. Teach 'em a lesson or three."

Jayne let out a snicker, then stooped and picked up the blade Lofgren had attempted to use. It was only a little dusty from the sand. Once cleaned, he tapped it like he had the one he'd used. He frowned at it, then sheathed it and handed it to Henley. "Send this'un out fer scrap. Got a weak spot halfway down the blade." He retrieved his belt from Zoë and strapped it back into place, then slid the chest-strap for the longsword over his t-shirt. The sword itself was roughly five feet long, most of it blade, but was far lighter than it looked, weighing in at just shy of three pounds. He grabbed his jacket and put it on overtop the blade. "Y'all decide whether or not ta take the job?" he asked Mal.

Mal gave himself a mental shake and exchanged a look with his second. After a moment of silent communication, he smiled at Henley. "Sounds too good to pass up," he said. "However, can we figure this one run at a time? If there's problems, I don't wanna be stuck doin' it."

Henley nodded. "Certainly. We can work it as a per-trip, rather than a full-run. Ya do all four an' the amounts'll still come out even." They shook on it and quickly hammered out the minor details. Henley would send the payment along with the first company over to Serenity the next morning.

With business taken care of, Jayne glanced at the other three. "Good, can we go back ta the ship now, before any more ru xiu wei gan xinshou decide they wanna try advancin' by makin' me bleed?" (25)

* * *

**A/N2:** Yes, I enjoy giving tattoos meaning – why do you ask? *Grin.*

Translations are as follows (and if anyone else out there has better ways to say what I meant, please lemme know – also if you'd rather I _not_ include the translations, please say as much. Thankee kindly!)

1.) _Yong bing goghui dating de guaijiao chu de songshu he di sishiwu_ – 'to the Mercenary Guild Hall at the corner of Pine and Forty-Fifth', translation by Google.

2.) _Shi de, xiansheng_ – 'yes, sir', translation by Google.

3.) _Xiniu_ – 'cow-sucking', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

4.) _Hudie_ – 'butterfly', translation by Google.

5.) _Ru xiu wei gan xinshou_ – 'wet behind the ears newbies', translation by Google and Wikipedia.

6.) _Xiexie_ – 'thank you', translation by Google.

7.) _Jiu jie diyu_ – 'nine circles of hell', translation by Google.

8.) _Aiya, women wanle, Pigu, Wuzhi de haizi _– 'we're in big trouble', 'ass', 'ignorant children', translations by Browncoats-dot-com and Google.

9.) _Goumai he zhifu_ – 'bought and paid for', translation by Google.

10.) _Nianling banlu_ – 'age-mate', translation by Google.

11.) _Xiexie_ – 'thank you', translation by Google.

12.) _Goumai he zhifu_ – 'bought and paid for', translation by Google.

13.) _Yuanliang ruquin, Dui huangjin dai yige tiaozhan yijing fachu, Xiansheng _– 'Pardon the intrusion', 'a challenge issued against Gold Band', 'sir', translations by Google.

14.) _Zaogao_ – 'damn it', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

15.) _Xiansheng_ – 'sir', translation by Google.

16.) _Ta made, Zifu de shagua_ – 'shit', 'egotistical moron', translations by Wikipedia and Google.

17.) _Xiansheng_ – 'sir', translation by Google.

18.) _Gou niang yang de_ – 'motherfucker', translation by Google.

19.) _Hundan_ – 'bastard', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

20.) _Huzi_ – 'tiger' (affectionate, parental), translation by Laowaichinese-dot-net.

21.) _Lao piao_ – 'old frequenter of prostitutes' (derogatory), translation by Wikipedia.

22.) _Xiao nanhai_ – 'little boy', translation by Google.

23.) _Di yidi xie_ – 'to first blood', translation by Google.

24.) _Shagua_ – 'simpleton', translation by Google.

25.) _Ru xiu wei gan xinshou_ – 'wet behind the ears newbies', translation by Google and Wikipedia.

Please lemme know how ya think I'm doin' and if ya got any suggestions, I'd love ta hear 'em! Thanks in advance.

**Edit 01/19/2013:** Located and assassinated a typo.


	3. The Qianfeng

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

**A/N:** Quick note on nautical/ship terms: Bow – front. Stern – back. Port – left (when facing the bow). Starboard – right (when facing the bow). The way I keep port/starboard straight is that both 'port' and 'left' have four letters.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Three: The Qianfeng_

Of all the things that could be said regarding Persephone, 'desert' was one descriptor which, terraformed planet or no, did _not _fit. The morning following Zoë and Mal's rather enlightening trip to the Mercenary Guild Hall dawned grey and rainy. Not uncommon during the late spring season, though in this case it was far chillier than was normal. Jayne stared out through the windows in the ceiling of the galley and couldn't help but think that word of Simon's cooking inability had been spread so far that even the sky wept for what that boy did to good protein. With the impending arrival of their 'passengers', Jayne simply wasn't in the mood for inedible food, as well. So, when Simon reached for the yellow-colored protein block, obviously intending to attempt something vaguely egg-like, Jayne stood and strode over to the kitchen area. "Why not try toast?" he said, pulling the plastic-wrapped pre-sliced loaf Kaylee had scored the day before out of the breadbox and into the doctor's hands. "Don't think even _you_ could screw up toast'n'cereal."

Simon turned to face the 'man-ape-gone-wrong-thing', his mouth open to argue, then caught sight of the strange expression on the mercenary's face – it was somewhat similar to his 'what the hell are you talking about' puzzled expression, though with a few more lines creasing the man's forehead, and faint amusement lurking about the corners of his eyes and mouth; it wasn't an expression he'd ever seen before and it halted his words even before they could form in his mind. "Ain't in the mood for crap food, not t'day," the man said and stalked back to his seat at the table.

Simon's shoulders slumped. He knew Jayne had a point; even after a solid five months in sharing the kitchen chores, he still was incapable of making protein taste remotely like food. Everyone still ate it, though he further knew that no one would if there'd been any other options available. "So passengers…" Simon attempted to open conversation while assembling bread, butter substitute, cereal, and tinned milk in a neat line along the counter.

Jayne made a grunting noise.

Simon glanced over and saw that he was back to staring up through the windows. "The captain said fifteen people," he tried again, then had to wonder why he was bothering. _Am I really so starved for conversation that I'm getting desperate enough to try even with the untrained ape?_ It surfaced in his mind that the assumption was likely correct. "Have to wonder just where they're going to sleep."

"'Tain't no concern o'yourn," Jayne said, his hands laced behind his neck as he stared through the window.

Simon threw six slices of bread into the toaster oven and turned the gadget on. "I beg to differ," Simon replied, knowing even as he did so that he was heading into an argument.

"How's it any o'yer business?" Jayne asked, lifting himself from his semi-reclined position at the table to look in Simon's direction.

"There are only seven passenger rooms, of which only five are open. The rooms themselves, though comfortable enough for one or two people, would be more than crowded with three each. I'm simply concerned is all." The toaster dinged, and Simon pulled the bread out, tossed more in, and began buttering the toast.

"Ain't gonna stay in the dorms, doc," Jayne replied. "Got their own setup fer the cargo hold."

"I was under the impression that the captain did not allow passengers into the cargo bay unescorted."

Rather than answer, Jayne asked, "You got the time?"

Simon blinked at the non sequitur. "What?"

"Time, doc," Jayne replied, amused that he'd managed to ruffle the doc's feathers with just a handful of uninformative sentences. "Planetside."

"Uh…" Simon glanced at his wristwatch and did some mental calculations, before remembering that ship's time was the exact same thing as the local time for Eavesdown. "About eight-thirty in the morning." Jayne flinched and scrambled to his feet. _Gorram it. Gonna wind up late._ He snagged two of the finished pieces of toast as he whirled past. "Hey!" Simon shouted after him, only to be met with the faint reverberation of his own voice. _What in the 'verse was that about_? he mused, then turned his attention back to making breakfast.

Down in his bunk, Jayne quickly rummaged through his clean clothes, finding what he was looking for at the very bottom. The shirt he pulled out was similar to his t-shirt of the day before, belying their common origin. It had long sleeves, though, and the gold band remained centered around either bicep. It also sported the same clear fabric oval over his tattoo that the t-shirt had, but was somewhat more ornate, if such could be said of a simple long-sleeved t-shirt. Drawn on the back in metallic gold was the Hall sigil – the stylized sun yin-yang – and on the front, the same metallic gold traced lines of Chinese text down his right side from shoulder-seam to a spot just below his ribs. The left side had a zigzag pattern of line drawings, each one different, but each likewise drawn in the same metallic gold. The topmost was a footprint, followed by an open hand, a clenched fist, the outline of a handgun, a rifle, a knife, a pair of crossed swords, a coil of rope, a starburst, and an eye. More Chinese text decorated the sleeves, from his shoulders down to the gold bands. Around each wrist were a stack, seeming like bracelets over the cloth, of metallic red. Each wrist sported seven of these bands.

He stripped off the shirt he'd woken up wearing – his bright orange sports tee – and pulled the black one on, making sure to tuck it in. Jayne debated adding more weapons, but shook his head. _Iffen they's any trouble 't'all, won't need more 'an Binky. Still need ta carry Boo, though. I 'member how it goes an' ain't no one what'll take me seriouslike 'thout a gun on m'hip._ Finished, he glanced at the timestamp on the cortex screen. There were only fifteen minutes before the company was due to arrive. "Fuck," he grumbled, then scrambled back up the ladder and all but raced to the cargo bay.

He nearly bowled over Wash on the stairs. "What's the rush?" the pilot asked, after regaining his footing. It took him a moment longer to convince his hand to let go of the rail. Wash almost didn't hear the hasty 'yihan' Jayne tossed over his shoulder. It was the apology that managed to convince his hand to let go. _Did Jayne just say 'sorry'?_ Intrigued, Wash finished climbing to the catwalk, then stared down into the cargo hold. (1)

Zoë and Mal were standing near the control box for the hatch, continuing a small back-and-forth that wasn't quite heated enough to be an argument, but wasn't cool enough to be considered a mere discussion. Jayne crossed the mostly-empty cargo area in a few loping strides. "Wanna open up?" he interrupted them, gesturing to the airlock.

"Ain't nine yet," Mal said. "'Sides, with it so rainy, I figured they'd just use the door."

"They's gonna be bringin' a whole gou shi fuhe of gear," Jayne explained his reasoning. "Ain't much of it's gonna fit through the door." (2)

"How much gear?" Mal asked, ignoring the 'I told you so' look being aimed at him by Zoë.

"A lot," Jayne replied.

Before Mal could press for specifics, a loud banging clanged at the hatch. Zoë stepped over and pulled the door open. A rather drenched kid of about seventeen, wearing the forest-green jumpsuit marking him as a trainee from the Guild Hall, stood shifting anxiously from foot to foot. He smiled at her. "Yuanliang wo de ma wo buguo shi zhe sou chuan Serenity?" (3)

"Yes, it is," Zoë replied.

The boy's smile brightened. "Xiexie!" He then spun around and raced off, the heavy rain rapidly erasing him from sight. (4)

Zoë was a little confused, and it showed on her face as she turned around. Before she could ask the question, Jayne said, "That'd be the five-minute warnin'."

Zoë closed the door and stepped back so that Mal could hit the button to open the hatch. Once open, the three of them stepped out onto the ramp, but stood back far enough that the worst of the rain couldn't touch them. They didn't have to wait long before their 'guests' arrived.

A double-column of seven rows of men and women wearing black-and-silver, spearheaded by a short man of Asian decent wearing black-and-gold, and flanked by trainees on ground-mules, hauling trailers, materialized out of the blinding deluge of rain. Everyone halted five feet from the edge of the ramp. The man with the gold bands edging his black t-shirt paused, then stepped forwards, halting a comfortable conversation-distance from Mal, Zoë, and Jayne. "Captain Reynolds?" his voice was pleasant and low-pitched.

Mal nodded. "That I am."

"I am Shen Hu, commander for the Qianfeng company. It is a pleasure to meet you." He turned slightly and faced Jayne. "Zhu Cobb, zhe shi yi zhong rongyu, zhongyu jian daole chuanshuo." He punctuated his comment with a bow. (5)

Faint traces of red crept up the back of Jayne's neck. "Ain't no call fer that 'zhu' goushi, Hu. Jus' call me Jayne." (6)

Zoë glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. _Is Jayne blushing? He is. He's _blushing_! I didn't think anything in the 'verse could embarrass that man!_

Hu merely gave a small nod. "As you wish," he said, then turned back to Mal. "Shixi sheng Duvall!" he shouted, making Mal wince a little. The green-clad trainee at the front of the line on the right pulled her mule forwards onto the ramp. Her trailer contained a single large wooden crate, ornately carved with dragons. She parked the mule and hopped off of it and onto the trailer, then opened the crate. (7)

Hu beckoned for Mal to join him and stepped up onto the trailer next to the box. Mal did likewise and saw that the massive box contained a heart-stopping mound of platinum coins. "Your payment for this trip, Captain Reynolds. One hundred, twenty-five thousand platinum."

Something in Mal's brain shorted out on seeing that much hard currency in one place. He coughed. "Uh… I wasn't precisely expecting cashy money. Figured it'd be dumped into a bank somewhere."

Hu and Jayne both laughed at that. "Shoulda asked, Mal," Jayne said. "Coulda tolja weren't gonna be no banks involved."

Hu smiled at the captain. "He is correct, Captain Reynolds. The Guild doesn't deal with banks. There's too much of a chance for errors – both accidental and purposeful – cutting into our profits. We are strictly a cash-only business." Hu closed the crate and stepped lightly off of the trailer. "May the greenies begin loading?"

Mal nodded. "Jayne will oversee that," he said, still somewhat dazed by the sight of nearly a literal _ton_ of money.

Zoë stepped over, smiling at the expression on Mal's face. "Perhaps your men should accompany us to the galley?"

Mal shook off the effects of seeing that much cash and nodded again, "While Jayne gets things stowed, I think it's a good time to go over the rules of my ship with y'all."

"A reasonable suggestion, Captain Reynolds," Hu said, then let out a piercing whistle. The double-string of mercenaries snapped out of their slightly relaxed waiting postures and Hu made an 'after you' motion.

While Mal showed them the way up to the galley, Zoë stopped by the intercom and hit the 'shipwide' switch. "All crew to the galley," she said, then repeated it before following the last of the mercenaries.

The kitchen was vastly overcrowded as everyone found places to sit or stand. The crew was clumped together at one end, most still gnawing their way through breakfast. "Dunno if ya heard downstairs," Mal said, climbing onto a chair to get everyone's attention, "but I'm Captain Malcolm Reynolds. This is my boat. My crew includes Zoë Washburne, my second-in-command." He pointed her out. "Her husband, Wash, is our pilot. Kaylee Frye is our mechanic." Kaylee waved cheerfully at the group of men and women. "We're lucky enough to have a doctor aboard," he pointed to Simon without naming names, "and the girl is his sister." River simply buried her face in Simon's side. "Our other crewman is Jayne Cobb, who's overseein' the loading of y'all's gear."

Mal paused for breath. "Normally, we don't allow folk into the cargo hold without an escort, but we simply don't have the space ta put ya up in the passenger dorms, so I'm askin' everyone ta keep their noses outta any crates ya didn't bring with ya. You're welcome to spend time in the common area outside the passenger dorms, or up here in the galley, and if y'all need him, the doc is usually in the infirmary. The bridge, crew quarters, and the engine room are all strictly off-limits without an escort. I was told y'all brought your own food with you, but even so, you're welcome to anything Kaylee hasn't marked otherwise here in the galley. Any questions, feel free to ask."

Hu cleared his throat. "It would, perhaps, be best for any questions to come through either myself or Zhu Cobb," he addressed his people. The tonality of his comment indicated it was an order, and the assembled men and women simply nodded. They knew how things like this went. "If it would please the captain, may I introduce the members of the Qianfeng Company of the Balanced Sun Hall of the Mercenaries' Guild?"

Mal nodded. "Sounds fair. Got a fair bit of traveling to do. Don't want ta be callin' nobody 'hey you' if I don't have to."

Hu turned to his men. "Qun da!" (8)

The group of ten men and five women quickly and efficiently reshuffled their positions. The man now standing closest to Hu wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt not unlike Jayne's, though the newcomer's was decorated in silver, rather than gold. "This is Penn Brace, my second," Hu introduced him. The tall, thin, blonde man nodded a greeting to the crew, then whispered something in Hu's ear. Hu nodded and the man excused himself and went downstairs to assist with the cargo. The next person to step forwards was a woman that was nearly as tall and muscular as Jayne, but with long red hair pulled into a braid. Her uniform t-shirt was short-sleeved and didn't have quite as many line-drawings on the left side as the previous man's did. "This is Tora Ibsen, our medic."

Simon had to forcibly close his mouth. _She's a _medic_? She looks like she ought to be wearing a horned helmet and a gold breastplate, carrying a massive spear!_ Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because the statuesque woman smirked at him, then winked as she fell back behind the rest of the company.

Aubrey 'Fish' Fisk was the company expert in interrogations, Gail Clark was their intelligence officer, and Lisette Sawyer was in charge of communications. The brothers Robak – Greg, Paul, and John – were explosives experts, while the O'Ryan twins – Keegan and Eth – were one of the two sniper teams the company had. The other sniper team was a married couple, Bo and Tai Lin. The last two members of the company were Akira Barr and Yu Zhang, their trackers.

While introductions were being completed up in the galley, Jayne had taken to ordering the crowd of greenies about. They had just finished hanging a wide pad on the wall of the cargo hold when the decorated Silverman joined Jayne. "How goes?" the lanky blonde asked.

"Near done, I reckon," Jayne replied. "Jus' need ta hang the hammock-ladders. Rest o'the cargo's balanced well as I can make it."

Penn looked around the room. The heaviest of the crates were stacked at the midpoint below the catwalk. The company's chemical shower, bracketed by a pair of chemical toilets, stood in a brief line along the port side. A large padded training mat was spread across the majority of the floor space. Similar padding was secured to a section of the starboard wall, and a quartet of greenies were busily working to fasten the rope ladder of hammocks to this protected area. The floor space near the hammocks had been set up with a pair of folding tables and eight chairs. Their crate of diversions – mostly games – was close enough to one of the tables that it could double as more seating.

Penn nodded. "Like what I'm seein' so far. How's this ship ride? Ain't been on a Firefly afore."

Jayne shrugged. "Pretty fair, normally. Had our share o'problems in the past, but past is past. Pilot's better 'an fair, an' our mechanic's a right genius."

"Anythin' we ought ta know 'bout on the crew?"

Jayne looked at the blonde. "Well… Doc's wound tighter 'an a corkscrew, an' his sis is completely ruttin' xingjiao de tou bu, so'd be best jus' ta steer clear o'her." (9)

Penn rummaged in his pockets for a moment before coming up with a package of sunflower seeds. "I'm sensin' a story there," he said, offering the seeds to Jayne.

Jayne took a couple and sucked the salt off of them. "I was mindin' m'own business an' the moonbrain come up outta nowhere an' slashed me with a butcher's knife. Forty gorram stitches an' her excuse was 'he looks better in red'. O'course, had she gone after anyone but the gun hand, she'd been dropped at the next port – mebbe even spaced, iffen she'd managed ta kill someone."

Penn scoffed in agreement. "But since it was you, no one really gave it much thought, eh?"

Jayne nodded and chewed the seeds now that the salt was gone. "Yep."

"What o'the othern?"

"Wash's the pilot, pretty laid-back sorta guy. Thinks he's funny, though. Zoë's married ta him. The cap'n can be pretty squirrelly at times, 'specially iffen Alliance-types show, but he's usually pretty easy-goin', s'long as ya mind his rules. An' Kaylee's a really friendly sort, 'minds me of m'own sisters. Dong ma?" (10)

Penn nodded. "I'll pass word 'round. Friendships're fine, I reckon?"

"Yeah," Jayne replied. "So long as it don't go further, no matter how amenable anyone might be."

The decorated Silverman offered his stash of sunflower seeds again. "What about the crazy-girl? Iffen she starts sommat?"

Jayne frowned. "Gonna try an' see iffen the doc'll keep her outta y'all's way, but she don't listen too well at the best o'times. Iffen she starts sommat, call fer me or the doc. Iffen it's real bad, call us both. Try not ta hurt her none, though. Tends ta make her brother all pissy an' such."

"An' the last thing y'all need's a pissy doc when ya need stitchin' up," Penn chuckled.

"Damn straight," Jayne agreed, chewing another mouthful of Penn's treat.

The last of the preparations were completed just as the rest of the mercenary company returned to the cargo bay. Jayne hit the button to close the hatch as the final greenie exited. "All set, Wash," he said into the intercom.

"Okay," Wash replied. "We'll be in the black in twenty minutes."

* * *

**A/N2:** I figure a platinum coin would weigh about the same as a nickel (five grams). 125,000 of them would weigh in at just under a ton (1800+ pounds, if ya wanna get finicky).

Translations are as follows (and if anyone else out there has better ways to say what I meant, please lemme know – also if you'd rather I _not_ include the translations, please say as much. Thankee kindly!)

1.) _Yihan_ – 'sorry', translation by Google.

2.) _Gou shi fuhe_ – 'shitload', translation by Google.

3.) _Yuanliang wo de ma wo buguo shi zhe sou chuan Serenity?_ – 'Excuse me, ma'am, but is this ship Serenity?', translation by Google.

4.) _Xiexie_ – 'thanks', translation by Google.

5.) _Zhu Cobb, zhe shi yi zhong rongyu, zhongyu jian daole chuanshuo._ – 'Master Cobb, it is an honor to finally meet the legend.', translation by Google.

6.) _Zhu, Goushi_ – 'master', 'crap', translations by Google and Browncoats-dot-com.

7.) _Shixi sheng _– 'trainee', translations by Google.

8.) _Qun da_ – 'group up', translation by Google.

9.) _Xingjiao de tou bu_ – 'fucked in the head', translation by Google.

10.) _Dong ma_ – 'understand', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

**Edit 01/07/13:** Realized when writing this chapter that I'd lost a trip when figuring the amount of platinum in the box. It's been corrected to show the proper amount for 500K divided among four trips. (I ain't never been all that great at math.)

**Edit 01/19/2013: ** Found and assassinated a typo.


	4. Eavesdropping

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

**A/N:** I think everyone should be pleased to know that I actually know what the plot of this is supposed to be now. I know I am. And the last segment of this chapter was rather difficult to write.

Happy New Year! May everyone's 2013 bring laughter, love, joy, and the fulfillment of your dreams and goals!

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Four: Eavesdropping_

It was far louder than normal. Not the ship, not the crew. It was the cargo. All but shouting their every thought in her direction, deluging her with memories, emotions, and random bits of spare monologues that were never intended to be overheard.

…_Pretty bit o'friendly...protein rations suck…hate chem-showers…wo bu hui gei yixie yinsi…take thirty grams, an' pack it under a wad o'cotton or silk…_ (1)

She would have hidden, but there wasn't anywhere on the whole of the ship she could escape. They were drowning her.

She tried to climb inside Simon's mind, but the comforting familiarity of his worry had taken a much sharper edge – _fifteen mercenaries just like the ape, fifteen living weapons aboard, only a matter of time before they realize the payday to be had if they find out who River and I are _– and it cut into her like glass. Kaylee was also spikier than normal, though in her case it wasn't worry, but over-enthusiasm about having fifteen new folks; the mechanic was practically vibrating in her skin with wanting to get to know them all. After the first week, River had learned not to stray into Zoë or Wash's minds – everything they were was _so_ wrapped up in the other, and it hurt to feel their connection. Mal's mind was too much like her own, all darkness of painful memories, though they were all solely _his_ memories and she couldn't help but feel resentful at that fact.

She wandered around in a daze only partially caused by Simon's latest cocktail, seeing pulses of colors swirling around her, revealing scenes she knew to be false, scenes of overly-green grass and vibrant trees caught in mid-spring bloom, but she couldn't swim out of the barrage of _others_ long enough to glimpse the reality behind the illusion.

After what felt to be days, _years_ of this torment, the whirlwinds of color/thought/emotion began fading, collapsing in on themselves, fading down to coals of sleep. She could finally hear herself again.

As the illusory world fell away, she found herself curled up under the galley table, a low pair of voices coming from the small seating area in the alcove off the kitchen. Neither one buffeted her with unwanted sensations. The little bleed-through coming from them was about as uncomfortable as the chill radiating through a winter-closed window on a sunny day.

"…I even wanna know how bad it's gotten?" Jayne's voice was his typical rumble, though it seemed as if someone had managed to find his volume control, as he was actually being somewhat quiet.

"Hasn't become too out-of-hand," Hu replied. His voice was set at about the same volume.

"Not yet," Jayne countered, then sighed.

The pair sat in silence for a while, and River was tempted to crawl out from under the table to go to her room and enjoy the silence of the ship while it lasted, but she sensed Wash finishing up setting the night-cycle and heading to the galley for one last cup of tea before bed. She didn't want to interrupt. She knew her presence tended to do just that, whether it was conversation, mundane tasks, or simply thinking, she always managed to interrupt it and get splashed with thoughts and emotions she didn't want. So she stayed put.

"O, wo chadian wangle, dan Zhu Henley wen wo yiqi chuandi gei ni," Hu said, while rummaging in his pockets. His movement masked Wash's arrival in the galley. (2)

River peered out from under the table and saw Wash doing likewise around the corner of the kitchen. Hu handed Jayne a small box, not unlike the sorts that jewelry came in. Jayne opened it. He kept hold of the small object it contained and tossed the box on the coffee table. In the dim light, he made a coinlike item dance across the back of his knuckles. "Bu gan xiangxin ta yijing sanshi nianle," he said, watching the coin. (3)

"The only thing more constant in the universe than either death or taxes," Hu agreed.

"Time moves forwards," Jayne completed the old saying. He halted the coin's movement and tucked it into his own pockets. "An' it don't give a feifei de piyan jus' who it runs over in doin' so." (4)

While the two mercenaries sat in companionable silence, the peace of a mostly-asleep ship River had been enjoying was shattered completely by Wash. He hadn't moved, hadn't really even breathed much, but the short exchange over the chit-marker was enough to send his emotions and thoughts into an uncustomary spiky sprawling mess. It crashed down on River and carried her along for the ride.

_Thirty years?_ echoed through Wash's mind. _Jayne only just turned forty about six months ago! How in the name of gaisi de yuzhou zhong shi shengjie de did he manage a thirty year chit? He woulda had to've been ten years old! Never heard of someone in the Halls that earned their Blacks younger than fifteen! It's preposterous!_ (5)

Hu stretched and yawned. "It has been a rather eventful day," he said. "I'm going to find my rack. Have a good night, Zhu Cobb."

"G'night," Jayne replied, waiting until the company leader was out of the room before letting out a sigh. "Thought I tol' ya, it's jus' _Jayne_." A flash of irritation lanced across River's brain; it was the single strongest emotion she'd ever felt come off of the big man, barring the guilt he felt whenever Ariel was on his mind and the reflex of shocky anger following her adventure with the kitchen knife.

_Walls are crumbling amid unknown variables. The masks enforced have begun to fall away because of the countering forces of required expectations by two very different sets of equations. Just the brainless muscle is being dashed against a lifetime of firm footing amid those who seek to emulate, to learn, to be led. Cracks in the defenses, light shines through. No matter how fast he scrambles, the little Dutch boy hasn't enough fingers to stem the flow._ River pulled herself a little deeper under the table. Of all of the people she'd come into contact with since her brother had rescued her from the Academy, there had only been a few that she'd not known immediately what they were thinking or feeling. Jayne Cobb had been one of those few.

She could catch surface thoughts, and sometimes if a particular emotion was extraordinarily intense, she could pick up on it. But she was unable to dive into his mind the way she could Simon's or Kaylee's or Mal's. In her more lucid moments, like everyone else aboard, she had assumed it was because he was a shallow, self-serving person, interested in _killin', money, an' sexin'_. In her less lucid moments, one of which had led to the incident with the knife, she'd been wondering if he was human at all._ He is human after all._ Before she could think too much on it, and before Jayne had the chance to shore up his mental walls, River impulsively dove into his mind.

A sudden headache blossomed between Jayne's eyes and he rubbed at his forehead. "Hu's right – been one xingjiao biao zi jinu of a day," he mumbled to himself. (6)

Wash quickly ducked behind the counter as Jayne got to his feet and stumbled in the direction of his bunk. Once the hatch had closed behind him, the pilot stood once more and stared after him, still stuck on the fact that the man had been given a thirty-year service chit.

In his bunk, Jayne stripped down to his boxers, then turned his attention to Boo. The LeMat pistol hadn't been fired – hadn't even been drawn – but the habits of a lifetime were _very_ hard to break. He sat at his desk and quickly unloaded the gun, then broke it into her component parts. The familiar act of polishing and oiling and reassembling the gun allowed his mind to go completely and utterly still, reforming inner walls where the tensions of the day had allowed pressure-cracks to form. The headache grew incrementally worse. He stretched out on his bed, tucked his head under his pillow, and sent a silent prayer that the headache would be gone in the morning, though he didn't actually believe that to be the case.

His sleep was filled with an odd mix of memories he'd not thought about in ages.

宁静

River opened her eyes to find herself sitting in what appeared to be a small classroom, filled with young children. Looking at her own hands, she found she was likewise only about five or so. Everyone's attention was on the pretty blonde woman at the front of the room. "Today, class," she said in Chinese, "we are going to begin learning English. Does anyone already know any English words?"

Several hands shot into the air. River kept her own down, knowing on an instinctual level that she could get up and dance naked, but no one would realize she was there – she was watching a memory.

"Jayne?" the teacher picked the boy near the front of the room. River smiled a little, recognizing the dark hair and blue eyes of Serenity's hired gun, but could see little of the man in the boy.

Nervously, the five year-old stood. "My mother," he also spoke flawless Mandarin, taking into account his age, "taught me the English alphabet, and how to count to ten, Miss Casin."

"Would you care to demonstrate the counting for the class?" the teacher asked.

The little boy smiled, and finally River could see echoes of the Jayne she knew in the bright grin. He quickly counted, getting all the words themselves correct, but transposing the order of six and seven. "That was very good, Jayne!" the woman enthused. "We will all get to learn those numbers very soon. Does anyone else know an English word they'd like to share with the class?"

A knock on the classroom door interrupted her before she could call on anyone. "Vera?" a nerdy-looking man who all but screamed 'administration dweeb' poked his head into the room. "You've got a wave from your sister – she says it's an emergency."

The memory melted around her as River chuckled to herself. _He named his favorite gun after his kindergarten teacher!_

Once her amusement faded some, she looked around again to find she was still about the same age. It was apparent that this was a different day – MiniJayne's t-shirt was now bright yellow instead of blue. All the children from before, with several dozen more, were outside, making good use of the school playground. Scattered plastic lunchboxes told River that this was sometime just after lunch.

Jayne was sitting by himself, gnawing his way through the last half of an apple, when a group of boys about a year or two older approached. The ringleader snuck up behind Jayne and shoved him off of the bench he was sitting on. "Oh! Didn't see the dummy there," the kid sneered, speaking English. He looked down at Jayne, who was trying to ignore the bully as he picked bits of grit out of a skinned palm. "Whacha gonna do, dummy, cry home ta mommy?"

The five year old version of Jayne once more showed a mannerism that River knew well. He grit his teeth together – the warning sign that an adult version used when overt acts of violence and speaking were both ill-advised. One of the other boys moved around the bench and stomped on the remains of the apple Jayne had dropped. "Oops, sorry!" the kid sounded anything but apologetic. The other three boys brayed like hyenas.

"Hey, Jaynie! Can you even _spell_ apple?" A third boy asked the question. "Or are all the letters gonna 'wriggle away'?" he pitched his voice into a squeaky high tone that was obviously meant to emulate a little girl.

The ringleader spoke up again, "Oh, lookit – the li'l girl's gonna cry!"

River saw no such evidence, but then again, she knew that the clenched jaw, coupled with the bright red flush usually meant that someone was about to get beat on – or that the bulkhead was about to sport a nifty new dent in the shape of Jayne's fist. However, she could see how the six year old boys might misinterpret the signs.

The group of boys gathered in a loose circle around Jayne and began chanting, "Cry-baby, cry-baby, li'l girl's gonna cry all over us!"

The scene had the unpleasant emotional overtone that this had all happened before. Many, many times.

There was a ghostly sound of something breaking, but the cause was not anything that could be sensed by the others in the memory. With an inarticulate roar, surprisingly loud and feral from such a small boy, Jayne leapt onto the ringleader. The kid's head connected solidly with the edge of the bench, a jagged spear of a splinter catching hold of a chunk of the boy's hair.

It took both of the teachers who were monitoring the playground – neither one the blonde Vera – to pull a struggling Jayne off of the other boy.

The scene swirled around her and the same Jayne in his yellow t-shirt – that was now spattered with blood – sat on a wooden bench outside a door that had a sign which read _Principal's Office_. It was easy to hear the voices coming from within. "I know your family has had a hard time of it lately, Mrs. Cobb, ever since your husband passed, but that is no excuse for what your son did to the Gregg boy!" it was a man's voice, stern and angry, yet attempting to be placating at the same time.

A female murmur could barely be heard, "I know, Mr. Corlin. I thought we'd nipped this fighting problem in the bud months ago…" There was the sound of tears in her voice, followed by faint rustling noises. "Xiexie, Mr. Corlin." A blowing nose was heard. Little Jayne winced at the positive proof his mom was crying over something he'd done. He shifted on the bench and stared down at his bruised and split knuckles. "How _is_ the boy doing, do you know?" (7)

"Not yet. The paramedics weren't hopeful, to be honest. Just from what I overheard as the Gregg boy was taken away, he has, at minimum, a fractured skull." He fell silent for nearly a full minute. "This latest event is simply one too many. There are over eighty other students I _must_ take into account, Mrs. Cobb. I see no other recourse but expulsion, effective immediately."

"Surely something else can be arranged!"

"I'm afraid not. Particularly if the Gregg boy doesn't make it. You do realize the only thing that has kept the police from interfering at this point is the simple fact your son is only five years old, don't you? If this had happened and he was only a few years older, he wouldn't be facing simple expulsion – if Gregg dies, it would have been a likely execution."

Several more minutes of crying came through the door, and little Jayne winced again, then seemed to try to melt into the wood of the bench.

The next few memories were flicker-snaps: Jayne and his mom sitting at a dining room table, struggling with reading a simple English fairy-tale while a Chinese text on fractions sat nearby; building a 3-D jigsaw puzzle with a much-older sister without referencing the puzzle's 'cheat-sheet'; learning by painstaking repetition how to write his name in English letters without mixing any up or writing them backwards or upside-down; an overheard argument between his mother and an irate landlord demanding rent money; more fights with neighborhood children; a broken arm.

The whirlwind finally settled down on the memory of his mother, carrying his baby sister in her arms, and leading him by the hand through the gates of the Balanced Sun Hall. A wiry man the same height as Mal with bright eyes, an easy smile, and reddish-brown hair greeted them at the guardhouse. "Roger," Jayne's mom greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Radiant," the man gave her a one-armed hug. "It's been too long, meimei." (8)

"I know," Jayne's mom replied as the man tickled her baby girl's chin.

Roger looked down at Jayne. "And who's this strapping young lad?"

"Jayne," Radiant replied. "Honey," she knelt next to her second-youngest child. "Zhe shi wo di gege, Roger Henley. Ni hai jide wo tanlun ta?" (9)

Jayne's blue eyes grew wide. "Shi de, wo jide, mama," Jayne mumbled, trying to hide behind Radiant. (10)

Radiant looked up at her brother with tears in her eyes. "I hate this," she said.

Roger nodded. "I know, but I promise I'll look after him."

"He's doing better with speaking English, but still can't seem to grasp more than the most basic of the written," Radiant returned to her feet. "I don't understand it m'self – he's better than any of his sisters were at his age with the Chinese…"

Roger just shook his head. "A boy can't be good at everything, Rade. But you needn't worry on it none. We'll make sure he learns what he needs."

"You're my last hope, Rog." Radiant smiled and bent to give her boy a hug. "Jieyi ni dui wo de shushu, Jayne, bing jingchang xie xin gei wo. Yongyuan bu hui wangji, buguan ni zuo shenme, wo hui yongyuan ai ni." (11)

River couldn't help but be overcome with the sadness and love his mom displayed. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to go back to her own mind, only to bounce off of Jayne's very much intact mental walls.

* * *

**A/N2:** I really, really hope my scene-break shows up for everyone. I spent the better part of an hour searching for a good screencap of the name painted on the side of our favorite spaceship in order to match the characters. I like it better than a simple line break. Hope y'all do, too.

From here I have two ways to go about the rest of the story. Normally, I'd just pick a direction, but this time, I'd appreciate a little feedback. Basically, I can make this into a Rayne story, or I can simply keep it out of the romance field entirely. Which direction would y'all prefer to see? Lemme know via review. Thankee kindly.

I also feel a tad insecure about my portrayal of River. I was a bit more confident in _Brompton Cocktail_ simply because that was post-Miranda, but with her still on the very crazy end of the psychological spectrum, I'm not as sure of my portrayal of her as I could be otherwise. Lemme know if it needs tweaked, y'hear?

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Wo bu hui gei yixie yinsi_ – 'what I wouldn't give for some privacy', translation by Google.

2.) _O, wo chadian wangle, dan zhu Henley wen wo yiqi chuandi gei ni_ – 'Oh, I almost forgot, but Master Henley asked that I pass this along to you', translation by Google.

3.) _Bu gan xiangxin ta yijing sanshi nianle_ – 'Can't believe it's been thirty years already', translation by Google.

4.) _Feifei de piyan_ – 'baboon's asscrack', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

5.) _Gaisi de yuzhou zhong shi shengjie de_ – 'all that is holy in the fucking universe', translation by Google.

6.) _Xingjiao biao zi jinu_ – 'fucked up bitching whore', translation by Google.

7.) _Xiexie _– 'thanks', translation by Google.

8.) _Meimei_ – 'sister', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

9.) _Zhe shi wo di gege, Ni hai jide wo tanlun ta_ – 'this is my big brother', 'do you remember me talking about him', translations by Google.

10.) _Shi de, wo jide, mama _– 'Yes, I remember, Mom', translation by Google.

11.) _Jieyi ni dui wo de shushu, bing jingchang xie xin gei wo, Yongyuan bu hui wangji, buguan ni zuo shenme, wo hui yongyuan ai ni_ – 'mind your uncle for me', 'and write to me often', 'never forget that no matter what you do, I will always love you', translations by Google.


	5. Linked

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N:** I sincerely hope I manage _not_ to confuse anyone with this chapter – it bounces back and forth quite a bit.

And the overwhelming reply to my question is that most folks seem to want Rayne. I will aim to provide, but I'm not going to promise anything – I know my limitations, and romance has never been something I do particularly well. There is a chance, regardless of my intentions, that they may simply wind up close friends. Just thought I'd warn y'all.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Five: Linked_

The door to the secluded cabin burst open. "Medic!" reverberated off of the walls in Tony Sterling's brassy baritone. He and Penny were struggling to carry Anne between them. "Gorram it! Dog! Get yer lazy pigu down here! Anne's hurt, bad!" (1)

Jayne and Mac hurried from the kitchen to see what the fuss was about, with Starla and Kit on their heels. "Reyes! Medic!" Jayne added his own hollering to the din. He strode over and scooped the not inconsiderable Anne into his arms while Shon vacated the ratty sofa in the living room. A clatter of boots on wood floors sounded through the ceiling and Bill and Matt nearly tripped over each other coming down the stairs.

Jayne glanced over while putting as much pressure as he dared on Anne's messy gut-wound. "Where in the ruttin' jiu jie diyu is Reyes!" it wasn't a question. (2)

"Here!" the newly-minted medic appeared from the archway into the cellar. He rushed to Jayne's side and began barking orders to the others. "Starla, I need my bag – it's in the cabinet under the sink in the kitchen. Bill and Matt – you two gimme the spare blankets outta the upstairs closet. Kit, I'm gonna need more light." He might be a lowly Silverman whose only decoration was a medic-badge, but nobody outranked him during a medical emergency. The others scattered. "Laoban, I need you to move your hands away," Dog said, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows. (3)

Jayne let up off of Anne and stepped back, watching as Starla reappeared with the medic's bag. As Dog cut away the sopping makeshift bandages to reveal an ugly, deep gash across Anne's midsection, Jayne spun around and pierced Tony and Penny with a hard glare. "Zai fasheng gaisi di diyu!" he demanded. "Were s'posed ta be an easy gig! Was why I give Jack, Molly, an' the Sparkle-twins the night off!" (4)

Tony stepped right into Jayne's space. "Obviously, some xiaogui de daoxingnishi decided to throw us a bad night!" (5)

Some part of River found it amusing that Tony, a man who was barely five-eight and delicately-built, had the nerve to step right into Jayne's face. Jayne, at twenty-five, was still imposing, even if he wasn't quite as filled-out as he would later become.

Jayne leaned down until he was mere inches from Tony's face. "Report," he growled.

"We seeded the track out to the line," Tony said. "That part was freakin' velvety-smooth."

"Then why's Anne bleedin' on the sofa?" Jayne glanced over his shoulder at the crowd surrounding the medic and their wounded member.

"We was on our way back," Tony explained. "Dunno what happened. Suddenly, there was this li'l _pop_ noise – think it mighta been a Grizwald, maybe even a 'Het. Anne was in the lead." The shorter man ran a filthy, bloody hand through his dirty hair, smearing the camo-paint on his forehead. "Had to've been a 'Het, I'm thinkin'. Grizzies don't bounce up, an' there weren't no flash."

"Iffen it was a 'Het, then how'd any o'y'all make it back?"

"Old ordinance, Laoban. Been settin' out long 'nough lost most've its charge." (6)

Jayne nodded. "Last flare-up out here was 'bout ten years ago. Tracks that there might be a forgotten mine or two hidin' hereabouts." He looked over at Anne again, then back at Tony. "You an' Penny go get yerselves cleaned up." After they reluctantly headed upstairs, Jayne turned all his attention to the rest of his people. "Starla, see iffen ya can't get Molly an' Jack back here."

The petite blonde woman – girl, really – tore her wide-eyed gaze from the activity of the company medic. "Huh?"

"Get Molly an' Jack back here," Jayne repeated.

"Opal an' Ruby, too?"

"No need," Jayne replied. "Jus' the trackers – an' while yer at it, see iffen ya can't get hold of a sweeper. Call up whoever ya hafta." As the youngest member of the company hurried to do as she was told, Jayne became aware that the activity surrounding Anne had ceased. Jayne didn't even have to ask, it was clear from the look on Dog's face that Anne hadn't made it.

The memory dissolved and River found herself floating in silent darkness.

宁静

It was Kaylee's morning to make breakfast, but as she headed into the galley, she found she wasn't the first awake. One of the mercenaries they were shuttling was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and playing solitaire. The man was about an inch taller than Simon, and similarly-built, with shaggy dark hair. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps. "Mornin'," he said with a small smile.

"Mornin'," Kaylee chirped back as she headed over to the kitchen area and began poking around to see what she could make for the crew's breakfast.

"Hope ya don't mind, but I helped m'self ta some coffee," the man indicated the percolator still sitting on the stovetop.

"Nah, not a problem," Kaylee smiled at him. "Nearly always have a lot of coffee or substitute on hand. Tea, too, for that matter. Sugar, though, that's somethin' what tends ta run rare on Serenity, so I'd be grateful if ya didn't use any 'thout askin'."

The man shrugged. "No matter. Ain't never been one fer sweets. Prefer m'coffee – or chicory – ta be black an' bitter, elseways I dunno it's coffee."

"You're from New Melbourne, ain'tcha?" Kaylee asked, setting out a mixing bowl and some measuring utensils.

The man nodded. "Yep. How'd ya know?"

"They's the only ones what call coffee substitute 'chicory'," she explained. "Think I'll make pancakes," she added in an undertone.

He chuckled a little. "S'pose that'd be 'bout right. Dunno why, but it seems the only place in the 'verse what grows chicory is New Melbourne."

Kaylee ducked into the pantry and quickly located the powdered eggs, tinned milk, and honest wheat flour she would need. "Ain't so," she called out. "We had chic'ry on Whittier, but most folk saw it as a weed." Her arms full, she dropped her volume on exiting the pantry. "I always kinda liked the li'l blue daisylike flowers, though."

"Me, too," the man admitted as Simon blearily stumbled into the room.

"You, too, what?" he asked, heading straight for the percolator. Simon helped himself to the bitter beverage while Kaylee yammered on about blue daisies. As the caffeine hit his bloodstream, he became more aware of his surroundings. "That's nice, Kaylee," he said when she finally got to the end of her defense of what was, in all likelihood, just a weed, despite her enthusiasm. He looked over at the newcomer. "Sorry," he said, "but I don't recall your name."

The man's smile broadened somewhat. "No never mind on the 'sorry', doc. We ain't got but a handful o'names ta remember, an' y'all got stuck with a double-dose. I'm Aubrey Fisk, though most folk jus' call me 'Fish'."

"Rather an odd nickname," Simon commented, inwardly sighing at the man's horrible grammar and wrestling his misplaced jealousy down. _Kaylee's just being herself. If he starts flirting back… Damn it, Simon! You have no call whatsoever to feel proprietary over Kaylee. Just because you think she's the best thing since sunshine…_

Fish shrugged, "Like I tol' Kaylee there – I'm from New Melbourne. Don't reckon there's a soul born there what dunno how ta swim afore they's three, younger even, if their family's like mine was an' made a livin' freedivin' fer oysters. I tested outta the class on swimmin' at the Hall when one o'my mates pushed me in the pool," his tone took on a taint of fond remembrance. "Held m'breath long enough they got worried an' was callin' fer the instructor. When I figured the hundan what pushed me in learned his lesson, I come up outta the pool. Zhu Dazin weren't best pleased wi' m'li'l trick, but one o'the first things he said was, 'whachoo got, boy, gills?' It sorta stuck." He ended his anecdote with a self-depreciating little grin. (7)

"How long did you stay down?" Kaylee asked as she set about mixing batter.

"'Bout eight minutes or so. Personal best's fifteen," the offhand way he said it convinced Simon that the man was simply stating facts, rather than boasting.

"That is impressive," Simon allowed. "I don't think I ever was able to go longer than about a minute or so." At Kaylee's curious expression, he clarified, "I was on the swim-team in high school. Did relays, mostly."

Fish wrinkled his nose. If the doc's way of speaking hadn't already done so, he would've pegged him as a Core-kid with that single statement. "Never did much care for swimmin' in man-made pools. All the chlorine makes m'throat hurt an' m'lungs burn."

Simon shrugged and refilled his mug before heading over to the table. "I don't much like swimming in natural places, personally. When I was little, I read too much, and always was afraid of sharks coming around. After I got a little older, it shifted from wondering if sharks were going to make me their lunch over to a long list of water-borne diseases."

Fish laughed. "Hell, doc, ya got a better chance o'bein' nibbled on by sharks than ya do of gettin' sick from swimmin', 'less yer swimmin' in sommat's really polluted."

Simon nodded and pulled out a chair. "I suppose you're right, but that still doesn't –" he halted as he went to pull the chair under himself. His toe had nudged something that wasn't supposed to be there, something soft. He ducked his head under the tabletop. "River?"

His sister was curled up under the table, her eyes closed. "Hey, River," he said, reaching down and shaking her shoulder. "Come on, meimei – it's almost breakfast time, and this is no place to sleep." (8)

River didn't even twitch. Alarm bells began ringing in Simon's mind. "River!" he added some volume to his voice and crawled under the table. She was paler than normal, but her pulse was strong and regular.

"What's wrong, Simon?" Kaylee asked, her head at an odd angle from bending sideways to see what was going on.

"I can't get River to wake up," he said, a note of panic underscoring his words.

Fish suddenly appeared from the other side of the table. "She hit her head?"

Simon shook his own. "I don't think so."

"Well, let's get her out from under this table, so's ya can take a better look an' _be_ sure," Fish replied. In that moment, the simple straightforward – and _obvious_ – solution strongly reminded Simon of Jayne's less-irritating suggestions.

Simon nodded. "Yes, let's take her down to the infirmary." Before he could start to pull his sister out from under the table, Fish had already scooped her into his arms and maneuvered gracefully out of the crowded space.

"Lead the way, doc," Fish said, once Simon had untangled himself from the table – his feet had managed to twine around a chair leg while he'd been otherwise occupied.

Neither glanced back at Kaylee as they left the galley. The smell of scorching oil on the griddle shocked her out of her worried daze and she scurried back to her task. _Hope she's okay. Sure she will be! She's got Simon lookin' out for her. She'll be fine._ Kaylee hoped that by repeating it enough to herself, it just might become true and drown the sudden dose of worry she'd swallowed.

宁静

She tried again to escape his mind, only to once more bounce off of the inside surface of his walls. The only thing new in this latest attempt was that, instead of landing in a memory, she found herself in a strangely busy _void_. She had no senses whatsoever – no sight, no hearing, no smell or taste – but could nonetheless sense _something_. It took several long minutes of holding herself perfectly still before her own mind managed to take this odd _knowing_ and translate it into something she could understand.

River found herself sitting in a movie theater, but with only one seat. A flickering film played endlessly on the large screen in front of her, images only. A few frames she recognized from his memories were followed immediately by what looked to be an animation of how to disassemble Vera, then flashed over to casting bullets and loading rounds. A five-second scene of hunting deer played, then a silent lesson on butchering.

_It's pictorial word-association,_ she realized, then wondered how she managed to land herself here rather than in the memories she'd been seeing.

A brilliant flash of white wiped the image of the theatre from River's eyes.

宁静

Jayne groaned as his eyes sluggishly fluttered open. Even the low level of standby lighting in his bunk was enough to pierce his eyes like a billion tiny needles. _This must be what a hammer feels like_. Breathing through his teeth in an effort to distract himself, he slowly managed to climb out of his bed and into some clothing. The pants were from yesterday, and the shirt was from three days earlier, but he honestly didn't give a rat's ass. He counted it a major accomplishment that he'd managed the complicated task without making his head explode.

The effort required to hoist himself up his ladder had black glitter dancing in his vision by the time he was done. Had his brain actually been capable of rational thought, he would have simply called for the doc over the intercom, but as it was the only thing he could really think at that precise moment was _gotta see the doc, doc'll fix it, gotta find 'im._

His head was throbbing so badly, he didn't notice the way he was leaning against the walls of the corridor. He _almost_ didn't notice when his feet missed the step and he landed in a heap at the base of the stairs to the galley; wouldn't have noticed were it not for the fact that the motion and sudden stop had him wondering if his brain had actually burst and begun oozing out of his eyes and ears.

Zoë, Wash, Mal, and Kaylee looked up at the sudden commotion. Wash was just about to open his mouth and make a joke when a pitiful little whimper came from the downed mercenary. "Jayne?" Kaylee said his name with honest concern. "You alright?"

Something akin to a groan emanated from the face-planted man and Kaylee leapt to her feet, her fork clattering onto the floor. She rushed over to him and struggled to roll him on his side. She managed to get him mostly turned over when Jayne's abused neurons told him what was going on and managed to get enough motor-control nerves on board to help. He couldn't help the repeat whimper that sounded as he landed on his back. A lighting fixture was centered directly above his head and sent spears through his eyeballs, even with his lids closed as tight as he could get them.

Kaylee gasped at Jayne's face, but not because of the expression. His skin was a peculiar shade of grey she'd only ever seen on dead folks. "Jayne?" He winced and she lowered her voice. "You ain't okay, are ya?" He managed to pry one eye open far enough to glare at her with as much malice as he could muster. In truth, it couldn't have intimidated a kitten, but Kaylee gave him points for trying.

"Come on," Mal said, nudging her out of the way. "Seems like this is why we got a perfectly good doctor aboard."

It took Mal, Zoë, and Wash all working together to manhandle Jayne through the far entry and down the corridor and stairs to the infirmary. "Qingwa cao de liumang, but you weigh a _ton_, Jayne!" Wash grumbled; he was stuck carrying half of Jayne's shoulders while Mal had the other side and Zoë took charge of his feet. Jayne himself had succumbed to unconsciousness about the same time they'd hoisted him in the air. (9)

The group barely noticed the handful of passengers availing themselves of the public-access cortex, though six pairs of eyes took in the sight and quickly exchanged glances. One of the group, a tiny Asian woman, nodded and headed for the cargo bay while the rest returned their attention to the movie they'd been watching.

"Doc," Zoë announced their arrival at the infirmary. "We got another patient for ya."

Simon barely glanced up from the machine he had attached to his sister. "I have no time for a hangover right now. Something's wrong with River."

"Ta made niao," Mal muttered. Zoë lowered Jayne's feet to the deck and shifted around to help Wash hold the man in a semi-upright position. Mal waited until she had a good grip, then stormed into the infirmary. "Gorram it, doc! I feel for your sister, truly I do, but there ain't been a time I known her that she _ain't _had somethin' wrong with her! But my mercenary, on the other hand, when he's not been shot, stabbed, or drugged – and yes, I know about that – ain't never but _never_ been sick! Hell, I seen him drink six men in succession under the table an' still have enough coherency to pick up a whore or two for the night, an' I ain't _never_ seen him get a hangover. So unless you're really wantin' me to get all violentlike, I suggest you _do your gorram job_!" (10)

Before Simon could reply, a new voice sounded from the doorway, "Looks like you've got your hands full, doc." Mal whipped his head around at the sultry voice and spotted the redheaded valkyrie from the mercenary company. She took one of Jayne's arms and slung it over her shoulder. "If ya lemme know where stuff's at, I'll handle Zhu Cobb here." (11)

The mercenary woman easily took Jayne's bulk, much to a shared look of disbelief between Wash and Zoë, and hauled him into the infirmary. "Where should I put him?" she asked the doctor.

He motioned to the length of empty counter in the corner. "Use that space there for a spare bed when this one's busy," he said, giving her a grateful look.

Outside the doors, the movie watchers – few of whom were still actually watching the video – saw the jealous expression on the mechanic's face before she frowned and flounced away. Each stifled snickers. They all knew Tora was a flirt, but the pretty mechanic couldn't know that the statuesque redhead was not only married, but fiercely faithful to her husband, a Guild Hall guard back on Persephone.

Seeing the two medicos had things well in hand, Wash and Zoë exchanged another look and headed back to their interrupted breakfasts. Mal stayed, watching the proceedings, one hand unconsciously on the butt of his gun.

宁静

After the flash of light faded, River found herself in another new facet of the mind she was currently occupying. It was a brightly-lit dojo, with polished bamboo and rice-paper panels. Jayne sat in the exact midpoint of the room, wearing a loose-fitting gi. The obi was, as she would have assumed since it was Jayne's mind, black, but it had three gold bands on the trailing ends. She shifted slightly, trying to see if she knew, or had ever known, what those gold bands might mean. (12)

Jayne's eyes opened. They seemed to freeze her blood, had she any to speak of at the moment. "Ni zai zheli zuo shenme shi diyu?" he asked, venom lacing his words. "This is _my_ place." (13)

She couldn't answer. Jayne's eyes narrowed and he gracefully rose to his feet. "You _are_ here?"

Finally finding her voice, she babbled, "Trapped! So _noisy. _Saw the cracks. Simon was too spiky, Mal too dark, Wash'n'Zoë were all Zoë'n'Wash, Kaylee was too _much_, needed a hiding place before drowning!"

_Ah, hell,_ Jayne thought, seeing her brown eyes fill with tears. He'd never much liked crying females, it gave him all sorts of uncomfortableness. Before he could tell her not to cry, it was too late. She folded into a ball and sat there rocking. "Didn't mean it, didn't mean to get trapped. Cracks disappeared before she could escape."

He took a careful step in her direction, recalling her threat from months before. _'Also, I can kill you with my brain.'_ When she did nothing and he wasn't blasted out of existence, he took another careful step. River kept babbling on about cracks and walls solidifying, but damned if he had any clue what she was going on about. When he was about five feet away, his courage deserted him. _Close enough to talk 'thout shoutin's good 'nough fer me._ He lowered himself into a relaxed kneeling position and waited. Waiting was something he was good at.

When River finally managed to calm herself, she uncurled a little and peered at Jayne through her hair. "Not sensing you…" she whispered. Pawing her hair out of the way, she focused on Jayne. She couldn't even sense his surface thoughts. It was both comforting and disturbing. The comfort came from her own memory of how she could recall being before special classes and needles and drugs. From before the Academy. The disturbing aspect was that since Simon rescued her, she'd _always_ seen/heard/felt surface thoughts and emotions. "Am I broken?"

The question was asked with such guileless curiosity that Jayne couldn't help but laugh a little. "Reckon so," he said. "But not here. In m'own head, yer only a girl. Gorram crazy li'l moonbrained genius, sure, but still jus' a girl."

It took a moment for her to realize what Jayne seemed to know instinctually – while her consciousness was in his head, his brain, his _whole _and _unaltered_ brain, she was as she'd been before begging to attend the Academy. "Just a girl…" she marveled at the concept, closing her eyes to revel in the _silence_.

"Said all along that my head weren't no place fer a li'l girl ta be pokin' around in, but I hafta say I figured ya would show up here sooner or later." Jayne sounded somewhat amused at how long it had taken.

River opened her eyes again. "Don't know how I found 'here'," she gestured to the dojo. "Fell into memories, at first."

Jayne winced. "Uh…"

"Nothing too horrible, I promise," River assured him. "Know how Vera got her name, though."

A faint blush crept up the big man's neck. "Don't go spreadin' it around none, ya hear?" _Almost woulda rather she seen m'first night in a cathouse._

"Promise," she said again. "Never tell what I see, unless it's something that needs said. Then it tends to come out…" she made a chaotic little hand gesture.

"All mixed-up and jumbled. Yeah, I know that part, li'l bit." Boy, did he ever know that part.

"Wish I could have come here sooner. I like the silence. Simon's always thinking, always worrying. Kaylee's always so… _cheerful_." She said the word like it was a disease, complete with melodramatic shiver and Jayne laughed. "The captain's… broody, I think is the right term, and worries almost as much as Simon. And Wash'n'Zoë are…"

"Zoë'n'Wash?" Jayne supplied, knowing what she meant. Even a blind man could see the amount of themselves they invested in each other.

River nodded. "Never could read much off of you. Never understood why. Thought you might not be human, at one point."

"That why ya slashed me?" he asked, not angry so much as simply curious.

She shrugged. "Sounded like a good idea at the time."

"Had me a fair share o'them sorts m'own self. Ain't never quite turn out the way ya aim, huh?"

She knew he was speaking about Ariel. She nodded. "Bad ideas traded, scales are even."

"Been thinkin' that, too." With that, Jayne knew forgiveness had been given on both sides, even if the words themselves would never be spoken.

"Know why now," River returned to her main thread, wrenching the side-track back to where it needed to be. "Know why I could never really read much off of you."

"How's that?" Jayne wasn't sure he really wanted to know. He was nearly positive that it had something to do with him being, to borrow the words of his long-ago classmates, a 'dummy'.

"Too smart," she replied, surprising him.

He blinked at her for a solid minute. "What?" he scoffed. "Ain't no definition of 'smart', li'l bit. Been tol' as much m'whole life. Can't barely read, 'less it's Chinese."

"They were wrong," she argued. "You're smart. Probably smarter than Simon. Maybe even smarter than I am."

Jayne started to laugh at her until he realized she was deadly serious. "What makes ya say that, li'l bit?"

"At the Academy," she paused, feeling the creeping horror she normally did at mention of That Place crash down on her, but was able to, for the first time, push it away to deal with later. "At the Academy," she repeated, "some of the tests weren't so bad. Just reading people. The scientists found a direct correlation between IQ and the difficulty in reading deeper than surface thoughts. The smarter the person, the harder it was for me to read. I'm beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than that, since with you I've now seen five individuals who I have difficulty with that have had training in a martial art."

"The arts don't got nothin' ta do with smarts, li'l bit. Jus' discipline. That correlation ya mentioned was pro'ly jus' a coincidence."

She leveled the look she usually aimed at her brother when he was being particularly boobish at Jayne. "No such thing."

"Jus' 'cause I don't believe in 'em m'self don't mean they ain't such a thing. Don't believe in ghosts, neither, but folk out there still insist they exist." Jayne sighed. "An' ev'ry teacher what ever had me in class agreed I weren't smart. Can learn ta do stuff, long as it's ta do with muscles or seein' or the like, but that ain't smarts."

River echoed Jayne's sigh. _How can I get him to understand?_ A slow smile spread on her face. "I'm not changing the subject –"

"Wish ya would," Jayne interrupted.

She glared at him for a moment. "Anyway, I'm not changing the subject, but would you take us to a memory I saw earlier?"

"Depends on which one ya want."

She described the scene.

宁静

Simon was at his wits' end. His sister was remarkably healthy, save for the fact that her brain scan indicated she was comatose. There weren't any bacteria, viruses, or parasites to blame, nor were there any injuries. Having run out of tests to perform, he turned his attention to Tora Ibsen, the mercenary medic.

In speaking with Mal, she had found that Zhu Cobb had tripped over the knee-knocker and fell into the galley from the crew-quarters corridor. He'd been responsive until they'd carried him to the infirmary. Now, he was in a similar state to River, and she was as at a loss to explain it as Simon was. He'd not been drinking, he'd not had any wounds to speak of, save for some slight bruising caused by the fall down the short flight of stairs into the galley. There were no traces of anything stronger than caffeine in his system, and not even enough of that to really register. (14)

Simultaneously, both medics sighed.

"Can I use the EEG?" Tora asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He removed the thing that looked somewhat like a swimmer's cap from his sister's head and handed it over. "Nothing?" he asked.

She shook her head, "Not yet. Can't figure out what's going on. Think it might be some sort of contagion?"

It was Simon's turn to shake his head. "Nothing came up in River. Environmental, maybe?"

Tora struggled to get the cap on Zhu Cobb's head. "If that's the case, why only these two?" She managed to finally place the EEG and gestured at Simon to step out of the way so she could see the readout screen.

He did so, turning so he could see it, too. There was twice the activity, on all levels, than a normal person should have. With dawning horror, he looked back at River, then to Jayne, and returned his eyes to rest on River's face. "Oh, meimei, what did you_ do_?" (15)

宁静

Jayne took them to the memory River wanted to revisit. He didn't much care for it, and it was definitely not one of his finer moments, but it had happened long enough ago that most of the sting had worn away from it. He stood next to the girl, watching his five year old self getting teased by the school bullies. "Stop it," she ordered. "Go back to just before that fat little boy with the cowlick spoke."

The scene reset to the point she indicated, and they both heard the bully say, "Or are all the letters gonna 'wriggle away'?"

"Stop," River ordered again and the image froze. She turned to face Jayne. "It was obvious the kid was mocking something you'd said, what was the context of the quote?"

Jayne sighed. "I ain't gonna be rid o'ya 'til this is done, huh?"

"Nope," the girl cheerfully agreed. "Now, what was the boy talking about?"

"Easier jus' ta show ya."

The memory melted and reformed to earlier in the day. They were inside Miss Casin's classroom, the scene frozen in the middle of what appeared to be a spelling lesson. Simple words, like 'cat' and 'dog' were chalked onto the blackboard, next to their Chinese character. In a third column, scraggly, childish letters spelled out each new word. "That one there's Buddy's little brother," Jayne indicated a boy that sat a couple of rows behind his younger self. "Buddy's the one wi'the cowlick from earlier."

He unfroze the memory.

River watched quietly as the blonde Vera called on a little girl to come up and copy down the English word for 'snow'. Then she called on Jayne.

MiniJayne approached the board and reluctantly took the chalk from the girl. His word was 'toy'.

The perspective shifted without warning, and River found herself viewing the memory from behind MiniJayne's eyes. He peered at the chalk marks on the board. "Wanju," he mumbled, looking at the Chinese, then shifted to the English. He saw a cross, and copied it, then a circle, which he had no problems with. When he got to the 'Y', however, it seemed like it was squirming around. He shook his head a little and concentrated on it. When he finally tried to copy the letter, he drew it upside-down. (16)

The perspective snapped back to third person and Jayne froze the memory. "'S always been like that. Some letters jus' don't like me none. Ain't so bad with Chinese, but I dunno why."

River just smiled at him.

"What?" the smile was a mite creepifying, particularly since she'd been making more plain sense than he'd ever heard from her before.

The memory melted again and the dojo returned around the pair. "Come on, li'l bit! Yer makin' me a mite nervous here!"

River chuckled. "I'm right."

"'At's all well'n'good, but what're ya right 'bout?"

She sat down. Unthinkingly, Jayne joined her. "You're not stupid, Jayne," she said. "You're dyslexic."

"Dis-what-ick?"

"Dyslexic. I've only got a basic understanding of it myself, but I'll tell you what I know as fact. It's classified as a learning disability, because of that 'wriggly letter' issue you know so well. From what I understand, it's caused by the way your brain is wired – it doesn't much like two-dimensional representations. Your thought processes are three-dimensional, and those 'wriggly letters' are because your brain's trying to force them into three dimensions so they make sense. I'm not positive on this part, but I would assume that the complexity of Chinese, even simplified Chinese, is something your brain already sees as three-dimensional. But it does _not_ mean you're stupid. Far from it, actually. Most of the truly gifted scientists in the 'verse are dyslexic. The same strange wiring in your head that makes those letters seem to squirm is actually an indicator of advanced thinking."

Jayne rolled his eyes. "Yer off yer gorram nut."

"Possibly," River agreed. "Shall we try a simple experiment to confirm my theory?"

"Depends on what it is." Even inside his own mind, he was unable to let go of suspicion completely.

"Give us a blackboard," River ordered. One appeared on the polished bamboo of the dojo wall. She got to her feet and quickly sketched an advanced ballistics equation. "Solve this," she said.

Jayne didn't bother getting up. He looked from the board to River and back. "Ya really _are_ off yer gorram nut. I need any math done, I use a calculator like a normal person."

River sat the chalk down on the tray under the board, then said, "Okay. Close your eyes and picture this. It's midday, low humidity. Wind out of the southwest at three knots. You've got a black-powder cannon."

"Why such a relic?" he asked.

"You're doing a demonstration on weapons once common on Earth-that-Was," River didn't miss a beat. "How much powder do you need, of standard quality, to lob a twenty-pound ball three hundred yards with sufficient force to demolish a brick-and-mortar wall?"

"Hmm… Would depend more on how I aimed the cannon," Jayne said. "But assuming ya want a hole clear through it, an' it ain't made outta no synthetics, then…" He thought for a long second, then quoted a number.

River laughed. Jayne opened his eyes. "What? 'At's the minimum, an' ya didn't say, but I assumed standard earth-norm grav."

"That's my point! It's the right answer." She gestured to the equation on the blackboard. "And it's the same as what I wrote up here. That's advanced mathematics, you know. Yet you do it without even really thinking hard on it, and I doubt a single number entered your mind while you did so."

"Ain't _math_," Jayne spat the word like a cuss. "'S just the way it _is_." River opened her mouth to argue the facts as she saw them, but Jayne interrupted, "An' I think it's 'bout time ya head on back ta yer own skull."

She sighed and wilted. "Must I? It's so _gorram noisy_!"

"Yeah, li'l bit," Jayne replied. "Yer givin' me one helluva headache."

River winced. "That was probably due to ricocheting off of your walls."

"My what now?"

"The walls you have inside your mind, the ones that you use to block out what you don't need or don't want to have to pay attention to. I only managed to get in because those walls were cracking under the strain you were feeling yesterday. But you fixed the cracks before I could leave." River explained the situation in a small, guilty voice. "I wish you wouldn't throw me out."

Jayne didn't know if it was conscious on her part, but she was now wearing an expression that put him in mind of a kicked puppy – and he couldn't say no to Kaylee either, when she wore that same look. He sighed. "Yer brother tol' me ya can't block nothin' out, 'cause of some part o'yer brain's been hacked out. That true?"

River nodded. "The amygdala. The biological source for your walls."

"S'pose I can see why ya say it's so noisy. If ya can't opt ta ignore somethin' it tends ta grate on the nerves, an' that's just fer normal folk. Can't really imagine what it's like iffen ya don't just see'n'hear an' such, but feel an' think what othern are, too." Jayne couldn't believe he was going to do this, but… _that look_! He mentally growled. "Tell ya what, kiddo – ya ever need some peace an' quiet, I'll make ya a door. Ya promise me ya won't go bouncin' off any walls no more, an' that ya will keep yer nose outta my memories, an' ya can come here as ya like." Even as he said it, a sliding door appeared at the midpoint of one of the rice-paper panel walls.

To his extreme surprise, and moderate discomfort, she hugged him, then immediately burst into tears.

* * *

**A/N2:** The current world record for freediving is just shy of twenty minutes, just so ya know.

And yes, I already used the Jayne-is-dyslexic bit in _Brompton Cocktail_, but I didn't get to explore it in as much depth as I'd wanted. I do try to research, but I'm certain I've got something wrong in my descriptions of it - I'm not dyslexic personally. So, I'd take it as a favor that if ya know more than I do, wouldja _please_ suspend disbelief for the duration of the fic? Thankee kindly in advance.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Pigu_ – 'ass', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

2.) _Jiu jie diyu_ – 'nine circles of hell', translation by Google.

3.) _Laoban_ – 'boss', translation by Google.

4.) _Zai fasheng gaisi di diyu_ – 'what in the fucking hell happened', translation by Google.

5.) _Xiaogui de daoxingnishi_ – 'imp of the perverse', translation by Google.

6.) _Laoban_ – 'boss', translation by Google.

7.) _Hundan, Zhu_ – 'bastard', 'master', translations by Browncoats-dot-com and Google.

8.) _Meimei_ – 'sister', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

9.) _Qingwa cao de liumang_ – 'frog-humping son of a bitch', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

10.) _Ta made niao _ – 'motherfucker', translation by Wikipedia.

11.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

12.) _Dojo, Gi, Obi_ – 'karate training house', 'karate outfit', and 'belt', translations by Karate-Kubudo-dot-NZ.

13.) _Ni zai zheli zuo shenme shi diyu_ – 'what in the hell are you doing here', translation by Google.

14.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

15.) _Meimei_ – 'sister', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

16.) _Wanju_ – 'toy', translation by Google.


	6. Mal

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **The first section here picks up just a couple of heartbeats after Simon's question to an unconscious River of 'What did you do?' from the last chapter.

In perusing Nathan Fillion's bio on IMDB, I found out he's deaf in his left ear. I _had_ to use it.

And did everyone see the pretty manip I posted for the cover? It took me _hours_ to get it to look right. I hope I did well.

Warning for this chapter: Implied prior Jayne/Kaylee relationship.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Six: Mal_

"What's goin' on?" Mal asked from his spot just inside the infirmary doorway. The look on Simon's face, in other circumstances, would have been downright comical, but when it was aimed at one of his crew like that… Not even Mal's somewhat dark humor could dredge up a smile.

Simon startled a little. He'd forgotten Mal was there. "I don't know how she did it, but it seems as though River's…" He trailed off, looking back at his sister.

"River what?" Mal pressed.

"Somehow, all the activity in her brain has simply ceased, save for the parts that regulate things like breathing and heart rate." Simon motioned for Mal to come closer as he walked up to the EEG screen.

"What are we lookin' at?" the captain asked, trying to make sense of the rows of spiky lines on the screen.

"This is an EEG readout – do you know what that is?"

"Reads brainwaves or some such, right?"

Simon nodded and hit a button. "This is what the readout typically looks like for someone who's sleeping." He hit another couple of buttons and brought up River's scan. "This is what it read from River just a few minutes ago." The majority of the lines were nearly flat. Simon hit another button, and the display changed a third time. "And this is what's going on in Jayne's mind." All of the lines were spiky, nearly violent-looking. "His brain is putting out twice the normal activity as it should, but River's is putting out nearly _no _activity – how would you explain that?"

Mal leveled a look at the doctor. "You're tellin' me your sister somehow has planted herself inside Jayne's mind?" He blinked. "_Jayne_?" his level of disbelief was quite obvious.

Simon nodded again. "That's what the evidence is leading me to believe. However, when you say it like that, it's somewhat more believable – who else among the crew has spare brains rolling around in their skull, after all?"

Tora bristled a little at the throw-away comment. _Figures these folk'd be just like everyone else. O'course mercenaries _must_ be dumb as mud, wi' a head full o'bricks, else they wouldn't _be_ mercenaries._ She returned her attention to Zhu Cobb. _Don't see how ya done it, zui zunjing de chang bei, livin' all these years on your lonesome wi' these fools._ (1)

Mal gave Simon a half-smirk. "Might be ya have a point there, doc," he said, then resumed his serious-face. "But what're ya gonna do about it? Can ya get her back where she belongs?"

Simon shook his head. "Honestly? I don't know. This is so far outside my area of expertise that I simply have no way of knowing how to fix it – or even _if_ anything I do will have an effect."

"Keep me posted," Mal commanded. He turned to leave, but spotted Tora. "What're you still doin' here?"

The powerfully-built redhead smiled nastily at Mal. "'Zhongcheng de gonghui suoyou qita shiwu dou shi ci yao de,'" she recited. (2)

Mal blinked at her. None of what she said had been cussing and the only words he'd recognized had been 'loyalty', 'first', and 'secondary'. He brushed aside his slight confusion. "That's all well an' good, but I don't think the good doctor here needs much in the way of assistance any more, so how's about ya head on back to your people." It wasn't a request.

Tora straightened to her full height and squared her shoulders. "With all the respect due the captain of this ship, _sir_," the faint emphasis on the word made it seem insulting, "but no."

"Excuse me?" Mal shook his head a little, then cocked his right ear towards the mercenary medic.

She glared at him. "You heard me," she said, filing away her suspicions that the man was at least somewhat hard of hearing on his left side. "I said 'no'. Whether the doctor needs my help with his sister is immaterial; Zhu Cobb still needs assistance and it is obvious from the doctor's earlier behavior that I cannot trust him to see clearly when his blood kin is incapacitated." (3)

Simon could see that Mal was rapidly winding up to his 'you don't give me orders on my boat' mindset and stepped between them. "It's okay, Mal. I could use a hand here, and she's got more medical training than anyone else aboard," he said, carefully maneuvering the captain out the door. "If I need you to throw her out, I'll yell for you."

Before Mal could argue the point, Simon hit the button to slide the doors closed. The lock clicked into place. He raised his hand to knock and press the issue, but a hand closed around his wrist in an iron grip that would be inescapable, yet wasn't hard enough to even dent his skin. He twisted his head and saw a tiny Asian woman staring up at him with a light smirk. It took a moment for her name to surface in his mind. "Mrs. Lin, you need somethin'?"

"I have found, Captain Reynolds, that it is best not to anger the company medic. I would imagine this lesson carries over to not angering the ship's doctor," she smiled at him. "Or else you may find yourself needing stitches only to find that the infirmary is suddenly out of anesthetic."

"Not arguin' on that, ma'am, but it's my boat –"

"And I am certain all aboard, both your crew and my fellows, are painfully aware of that fact, sir," her own use of the word imbued it with the respect such titles traditionally called for. "However, there is no need to hover about a place where you would only get in the way." She released his wrist and tucked her hand into his elbow. "Come, let's go upstairs to the kitchen and have some tea. It appears that though Zhu Cobb has served under your contract for quite some time, you have yet to learn how we do things." Mal found himself being escorted up the stairs. "That will wind up being something of a liability, should you consent to continuing in your current capacity with the Guild." (4)

The pair emerged into a rather loud galley. A group of five of the mercenaries were seated at the table, playing Tall Card and laughing at some undoubtedly unlikely story. "Ai shenme, Bo! Come up and join. You, too, cap'n!" one of the two identical carrot-top youths waved at them. (5)

Bo Lin smiled sweetly, "Thanks, Eth, but no. Maybe later."

"Ain't Eth," the twin grinned.

The other twin mirrored the grin, "I am."

Bo rolled her eyes. "You sure on that? The two of you have traded names so many times, I'm shocked _you_ even remember who you are!" Everyone laughed at that while Bo tugged Mal over to the alcove and it's semi-private cluster of cushioned chairs. "Sit," she pushed him lightly, then spun around and helped herself to the teapot the card-players had out already. She poured two cups, and handed one to Mal, then sat across from him. "What do you know of the Guild already?" she asked.

Mal shrugged and blew steam off the top of his cup. "Not a whole lot," he replied.

"Humor me," she said. "Don't worry about offending me – there is absolutely nothing you could say that I have not heard before."

"Well," Mal took a drink and ordered his thoughts. "If ya'd asked me that three days ago, I s'pose my answer woulda been that Guild mercs are supposed to be the best money can buy, an' as a result, they're a touch outta my price-range. Now, though, I've found out I apparently have had a Guild merc in my employ for goin' on two years – somethin' I ain't been given a good answer as ta how I can afford it. Found out that y'all're independently governed, for the most part. Also learned visitors ta the house on Persephone gotta wear badges so's they don't get shot, an' that y'all only deal in cashy money." He wrinkled his forehead as he thought back over the last couple of days. "Um… From what I understand, y'all's trainees are called 'greenies'. Folks in black uniforms are higher up than them, but I'm not too sure how much higher. An' from what I understand, anyone with gold decorations on their shirts're higher up than them as wears silver."

Bo nodded and sipped at her own drink. "You are observant, when pressed into it." She winced at the tea burned her tongue and sat the mug on the small coffee table between them. "Your observations are, essentially, correct."

"But?"

Her face reclaimed a small smile. "Not the whole story. As an outsider, I am not allowed to give you the whole picture – I hope you understand." She waited until he nodded. "Good. Now, a crash-course on what I _can_ tell you: Firstly, you are right about our trainees. Greenies are those who are still going through standard classes, and it's not quite what you are no doubt picturing. Yes, we do begin training the greenies as soon as they arrive in the ways of fighting, but most of the classes are geared more towards actual education – history, science, mathematics and such. Where Guild schooling differentiates from the typical education provided by the Alliance is that everyone is given a customized set of classes."

"What?"

Bo was hard pressed not to laugh at the man's comically confused expression, but she managed. "The vast majority of students who apply to one of the Guild Halls are, by Alliance standards, troublemakers. Kids who cannot or will not apply themselves to traditional schooling."

"Guess I can see that," Mal said, imagining a couple of kids he'd known in his own childhood that seemed to spend more time on in-school-suspensions in the principal's office than in class.

Bo let out a light sigh. _I don't think I'm being clear. But he'll understand. I hope._ "Once someone is accepted to the Guild as a greenie, that person is given individualized attention. If they need assistance in learning how to read, then he or she is brought up to speed. If they don't have a good grasp of numbers, likewise they are given assistance. Once everyone reaches a predetermined level of capability with the basics, then they go into slightly more specialized fields and begin learning things such as chemistry." She turned her head to the group of men playing card. "Hey, Paul – can you come here a second, please?"

The man sitting at the far end of the table glanced up, "Just a second, this hand's about done, Bo." They players finished their hand, then Paul ambled over to where Bo and the captain sat. "Whacha need?"

Bo stood. "Just stand here a moment." She pointed to the starburst outline done in silver on the man's left pectoral. "This means that Paul here is certified by the Guild to work with explosives."

"Building or disposal?" Mal asked, honestly curious.

"Either," Paul said with a grin. "Usually, though, it's buildin' 'em."

"When Paul and his brothers over there," the other two brunettes sitting at the table, both of which sharing a similar cast to their features as Paul's, looked up, "finished the basic schooling, all three decided to work towards earning this particular specialty badge." She sat back down and mentioned to Paul, "Thanks, you can go back to your game now." Once he'd stepped away, she faced the captain again. "What that means, sir, is that all three of the Robak brothers' educations focused on engineering, chemistry, and, to a slightly lesser extent, human anatomy. The level of knowledge they possess on the first two subjects alone is comparable to a master's degree from a Core university. The level of the third subject, since it is simply a supplement to the first two, would be equivalent to, say, someone trained as a nurse's aide – meaning they know all the 'vital' bits of people, but wouldn't be able to fix someone with a major wound…" she trialed off for a moment. "Well, everyone in their Blacks has had at least _some_ first-aid training, but I'm certain you get my meaning."

"I'm beginnin' ta see why Guild mercs are said to be so expensive. It's like hirin' the R'n'D folk from one of the big corporations, ain't it?" Mal couldn't help but be impressed with what he'd heard so far, though he hadn't yet applied any of this newfound knowledge to the man on his crew.

"Something like that," Bo replied. "In my case," she tapped the outline of a rifle on her own chest, "I'm a sniper. My husband is my spotter. As you may imagine, there isn't much in the way of classroom schooling for either position – though there is a great deal of mathematics involved."

Mal was going to ask why that might be the case, when he realized that – unless they had a lot of practical experience in it – the math side would be necessary to counter high winds or shooting through water, or any one of a dozen different scenarios that he could dream up. Bit by bit, the idea of the Guild having any 'dumb mercs' was beginning to fall away. "S'pose I can see that."

Bo's smile brightened. "Good. Now, once someone has passed their beginner's training, they trade their greens for Blacks. After at least five successful assignments or a minimum of five years, they get to add silver trim to their shirts. Anyone who's not got at least three areas of specialty are referred to as a 'Silverman', myself included. Once they have three areas or more that they've taken the time to specialize in, or if they've been active for a minimum of eight years, they're referred to as a 'decorated Silverman'. Decorated Silvermen are of higher rank than Silvermen, Silvermen are higher than Blacks, who are higher than the greenies. With me so far?"

Mal nodded and took a drink of his tea. It was finally down to a decent temperature. "So far."

"Good," she repeated and picked up her own mug. "Now, above the levels of Silvermen come the Gold Bands. The color-shift is brought about by not only completing the courses on leadership, but having proven fit to lead by doing so. Gold Bands have the highest rank in the Guild, barring the administrative positions, and – I can't confirm this or deny it, but it's the going rumor – they rank themselves depending on how many years they've been with the Guild."

Mal couldn't help but recall the color decorating Jayne's shirts. "Where does my crewman fit in?" he had to ask.

Bo frowned. "Zhu Cobb's story isn't mine to tell," she said. (6)

Mal echoed her frown. "Didn't ask for his story," Mal said. "Just wanted to see where he fit in among y'all."

"To ask for one is to understand the other," Bo replied. She drained her tea and got to her feet. "If it matters any, Zhu Hu brought Zhu Cobb's thirty-year marker to him at the request of Zhu Henley." Bo gave him a small bow, then deposited her cup on the counter and exited the room. (7)

Several minutes after Bo left, with the sound of two sets of bickering brothers in the background, Bo's parting sentence finally sunk in. "Huh," Mal said, finding his mind in the same state of whafuck that it had been in right after kicking open the box in which River had been stored when she first came aboard.

Without knowing quite how he managed it, Mal found himself standing in the doorway to the engine room. Kaylee was buried half under the slowly rotating engine, talking to the ship. "…all goin' so shiny, 'nough so you'd be gettin' some pretty new parts – maybehaps replace these old wires, more tape than insulation, ya know – but then somethin' always just _has_ ta go wrong, don't it, sweetie?" The sound of electrical tape being snapped punctuated her comment.

Mal cleared his throat and Kaylee scooted backwards. "Hey, cap'n!" she smiled up at him. "Was just checkin' the lines. Think maybe after we're done, we might set down for a good week or two? With all that money, I'm hopin' we can rewire a few systems…" she trailed off. "Didja need somethin', cap?"

Mal stepped inside the sunny mechanic's domain. "How well ya know Jayne, Kaylee?"

Kaylee's smile evaporated and she was tempted to lie, but knew she didn't do it well. "Pro'ly better than you'd like," she allowed, chewing a little on her lip. "Why? Someone say somethin'?"

The captain sighed and lowered himself onto Kaylee's hammock. "Not like you're thinkin'," he said. "Just wonderin' a few things is all. Been seein' parts o'him as I didn't think existed over the last coupla days."

The mechanic's smile resurfaced, like the sun peeking out from behind the ragged ends of a cloudburst. "Ain't much of a surprise, cap'n, not really." She sat next to him on the hammock.

"Just so we're on the same page here, wanna clarify what bits 'ain't much of a surprise'?"

Kaylee's smile softened. "Well, I'm thinkin' you're thinkin' that the whole 'Jayne's a Guild merc' is pro'ly one of the bigger parts you're havin' trouble with. Maybe wi' a touch of shock at how well the others think of him. Am I right?"

"Close enough, Kaylee-girl," Mal admitted. "Them the parts you were meanin' as well?"

She nodded. "Wondered how come he always tried ta take over when you an' Zoë was gone, so I asked 'im straight. He tol' me it was 'cause outta ev'ryone else, he had actual experience leadin' folk before. Didn't gimme too many details, just enough ta give me the idea it ended bad. Sorta explains how come if you an' Zoë's in a bind, an' he ain't there with ya, his first reaction's always ta try an get us off the ground an' inta orbit – he's tryin' ta get some breathin' room before whoever was after y'all this time comes back for the ship an' the rest of us. 'S why I didn't complain none the last time it happened; figured he was tryin' ta get the rest of us ta someplace safer before plannin' on how ta give ya a hand."

Having heard the story from Simon about their last gig before Book left, Mal nodded. "Sounds more like the man I've seen these past few days than the merc I thought I'd hired." He ran a hand through his hair. "How come you ain't surprised he's Guild, though? Did he tell ya 'bout that, too?"

Kaylee shook her head. "Nope. Figured that part out when ya hired him. I was rewiring the lower aft bay light durin' that job, if ya recall. I heard how he claimed seven percent as standard – that right there's Guild rules. Thought ev'rybody knew that. An' even if that part weren't noticed, I woulda thought him recordin' you goin' over the deal an explainin' the ship rules woulda been a big ol' Guild merc flag. They hafta file their contracts with the Guild, else they don't get protection if there's any legal problems what come from workin'." She cocked her head to the side a little. "Ain't ya never wondered none on why, any o'the times we been 'interviewed' by the 'Liance, he ain't never been held, considerin' his line o'work?"

Mal had another 'huh' moment as he realized Kaylee was right. In all the half-dozen or so times the ship had been checked by Alliance feds, Jayne had never been held over for any sort of outstanding warrant. In fact, in all but one of the situations Mal remembered, Jayne had already been back on Serenity before the feds had released any of the rest of the crew. "Wo hui bei dingzui." Kaylee giggled and Mal glared lightly at her. "How is it ya know so much about the merc Guild?" he asked. (8)

She shrugged. "Artie," she named her oldest brother. "He joined the Guild when he was thirteen."

"Well ain't that somethin'," Mal muttered, climbing to his feet and drifting out of the room. A thought suddenly struck him and he paused, sticking his head around the doorway. "If they all gotta file their contracts with the Guild, then how'd Jayne get away with shootin' his last employer?"

Kaylee giggled again. "Marco weren't followin' Guild rules, cap'n – ya hire a Guild merc an' you're s'posed ta take responsibility for feedin' 'im. Marco expected all his thugs ta buy their own food."

"Huh," Mal repeated, then continued on his way elsewhere.

_Hafta say this has been one helluva interesting job so far,_ Mal thought, not paying attention to where his feet were leading him. _Enlightenin' in all sorts of uncomfy ways._ He blinked and realized he was standing at the door to what had been, until recently, Inara's shuttle. Rolling his eyes at himself, he turned away and looked down into the cargo bay.

The only people present were Shen Hu, his second, Penn Brace, and the woman who reminded him of a younger Zoë. He rummaged in his memory for her name and came up with Gail Clark. The three were seated at one of the card tables the company had brought with them, intently studying a digital animation of what looked like the floor plan to a sawmill. He was far enough away that he couldn't hear much, but after watching the trio for a while, found that Hu was a competent leader, knowing when to shut up and listen when someone else had a better idea.

Leaving them to their business, he cut across the catwalk and went up the stairs that led to the crew quarters corridor, then up to the bridge. "Everything shiny?" he asked, interrupting for the millionth time Zoë's lap-time with her husband.

"Perfectly shiny," the pilot replied.

"Good," Mal said, automatically, staring intently out at the stars beyond the window.

Zoë and Wash exchanged a look, Wash's pleading and Zoë's apologetic, but they both knew that when Mal was in his current mood, it was best just to leave him to it. Zoë got up and headed off to see how their passengers were fairing.

宁静

Jayne and River opened their eyes simultaneously, though neither Simon nor Tora noticed. The two medics were occupied in paging through Simon's electronic medical encyclopedia for something which might work to jolt River back into her own mind. Silently, River lifted a finger to her lips and smirked at Jayne.

Jayne nodded and reached up to remove the rubber hat thingy the medical folk had put on his head. With less noise than a cat, he slipped off the counter and slid over to the door. He lifted his hand to the button that would unlock and open it and River let out an ear-splitting shriek. Both medics jumped and whirled around, just missing Jayne hitting the button and slipping out of the room before either of them could spot him.

He managed to hold in his laughter until he was halfway up the staircase to the galley. _Girl's got one helluva sense of humor._

* * *

**A/N2:** I debated on whether or not to add that last segment, then decided it wouldn't be fair to have an entire chapter focusing solely on other characters. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Zhu, Zui zunjing de chang bei_ – 'master', 'most respected elder', translations by Google.

2.) _Zhongcheng de gonghui suoyou qita shiwu dou shi ci yao de_ – 'The first loyalty is to the Guild, all else is secondary', translation by Google.

3.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

4.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

5.) _Ai shenme_ – 'Hey, what's up', translation by Google.

6.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

7.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

8.) _Wo hui bei dingzui_ – 'I'll be damned', translation by Google.


	7. Words

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **This chapter kinda got away from me and went in a direction I hadn't intended. I hope it's not too obvious.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Seven: Words_

Jayne entered the galley far more gracefully than he had earlier that morning. He nodded a greeting to the group of five who were playing cards at the table, then headed over to the cabinets to scrounge up something for his breakfast. He could tell the men at the table had paused in their game and were watching him, so he wasted no time debating and simply grabbed a can of peaches and a packet of graham crackers. _Would like some coffee, too, but I ain't lingerin' an' lettin' them look on me like some zoo animal._ With his meal in hand, he retreated to his bunk.

He sat at his desk and ate quickly. Once the growling in his stomach had quieted, he set about his abandoned morning routine. With no chance of any public eyes landing on him while among other Guild mercs, his clothing choices did not include any part of his uniform, instead he went with his greenish-grey t-shirt. Dressed and actually ready for the day, he didn't head back out to rejoin everyone. He kicked back on his bunk and retrieved a section of fine-grained apple wood from the cubby at the head of his bed and the small kit of chisels and blades he stored there.

Spreading a piece of rough canvas over his lap to catch the chips, splinters, and dust, he took the half-formed figurine in one hand and selected a tiny blade with a long handle with his other. The figurine was about nine inches tall and one of the more challenging carvings he'd ever attempted. If it turned out well, he planned to have it sent off to be cast in bronze. If it didn't turn out well, then he still got his money's worth – he'd already spent upwards of a hundred hours on it.

While skilled hands turned the piece of wood over and over, removing nearly microscopic bits of material, his mind similarly worked over the problem that the girl had given him. _If ya can't block out the unimportant shit, then that right there's enough ta make anyone run a little nutty. _He exchanged the blade for an even smaller scoop-ended chisel. _So, iffen she can't – not won't, but physically _can't_ – block out the little shit, then… Hmm… _He sat the figurine down, put the chisel back in its box, and headed over to the cortex. He dialed the connection for Henley.

"Huzi?" Hen said, concerned, as his face appeared on the screen. "Don't tell me y'all're havin' problems already." (1)

Jayne shook his head. "Not wi'the men, shushu. Callin' 'bout sommat else." (2)

"Must be serious," Hen's concern intensified. "Ya ain't called me 'uncle' since ya was ten."

Jayne scrubbed a hand across his face. "Ya recall what happened ta Chatterton, back in oh-two?"

"Yuchun de hundan caught an explosive round in his skull. Blew out the right side of his head," Hen summarized the worst training accident to ever happen at the Balanced Sun Hall. "Ruttin' luckiest sumbitch ever ta walk the 'verse, though." (3)

Jayne nodded in agreement. "Shoulda killed him outright, yeah. But he lived."

"An' they was able to regenerate the bits what got aerated, too, but iffen ya ask me, he ain't been quite right since." Hen peered at his sister's youngest son. "You got a reason on bringin' him up?"

"Yeah, shushu, I do." (4)

When his nephew failed to elaborate, Henley snapped, "Well, spit it out, Jaynie-boy! Ain't got all gorram day, ya know."

Jayne chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then said, "Ya know anythin' 'bout readers?"

"Ya mean psychics?" Hen asked. Jayne nodded again and Henley shrugged. "Know they ain't fairytales, if that's what yer after." After another long moment of silence, Henley sighed. "Listen, Jayne – either tell me what's got ya so knotted up, or wave back once ya got it figured out yer own self."

"Know what I want ta ask, but I ain't sure how," Jayne admitted.

"Start at the beginnin'," Henley replied, reiterating the same advice he'd given Jayne a million times over in their lives.

Jayne indulged in a half-smile at the familiar words. "'Bout six months ago, we picked up a handful o'passengers," he began. "A doc, a preacher, an' a cop."

"Sounds like a bad joke," Hen commented.

Jayne chuckled. "Agreed, but it weren't no joke. Wound up the fed weren't no good guy, he was after the doc."

"Do I wanna know why?"

"Doc hijacked his li'l sis outta some black-ops gov'ment facility, had 'er in a cryo box 'til the cap'n woke 'er."

Hen let out an irate huff of air. "Can't imagine they's what had her was too happy 'bout it."

"They ain't," Jayne replied. "Been dodgin' feds an' such ever since."

"Surprised they ain't sent an Operative after y'all," Hen said.

"Been thinkin' on that m'own self. Only a matter of time an' they will."

Henley nodded, knowing his nephew had the right of it. "So the sis is a psychic?"

Jayne would have been suspicious, but his uncle had always had a knack for seeing into the heart of the matter. "Yeah. Coupla months back, the doc managed to get a brain scan of her, found the facility'd been cuttin' inta her head, removin' bits."

It was Henley's turn to contribute to a rather lengthy silence, but Jayne knew it simply meant his mentor was just thinking things over. Eventually, he spoke. "So, I think I know what ya want ta ask." Some tension leaked out of Jayne's posture, but nearly immediately returned at the very next sentence to come out of Henley's mouth. "She of age ta sign?"

Jayne shook his head in a slow, deliberate motion. "Was seventeen when she come aboard, but I dunno if she's hit eighteen yet or not."

"Find out," Henley commanded, then his face softened with a tiny little smile. "Ya always did bring home a lot o'strays."

Jayne looked down and shrugged. "Not so many as all that," he mumbled. Another silence descended on the pair, and Jayne looked back at the screen. His mother's brother wore a strangely proud expression. "What?" Jayne asked.

"Good ta see yer finally healin' some," Hen nearly whispered it. "Ya spent long enough out on yer lonesome, ya know."

Jayne winced like he'd been punched in the jaw. "Been reasons fer that."

"Mayhaps at first," Hen allowed. "But it's been fifteen years, huzi. 'Bout time ta rejoin humanity, doncha think?" (5)

Before Jayne could reply, Henley disconnected. "Might be right, shushu," Jayne whispered to the dark cortex screen. "Might be right." (6)

宁静

"No!" River yelled, leaping off of the table and twisting out of the redheaded medic's grip. "No more _needles_!"

Simon darted forward, a syringe filled with sedative in hand. "River! Please, meimei, you're being unreasonable."

River ducked under his clumsy attempt to grab her and managed to snag the syringe out of his hand. "Can't fix me with drugs!" she yelled, turning the tables on which Tam was hunting which and aimed the point of the syringe at her brother. "Can't fix a knife with a needle, Simon, can't do it! Improbable to the point of impossible." She depressed the plunger, causing an arc of medication to squirt out and patter harmlessly on the deck. "No. More. Needles."

Tora had tried to slip up to the girl's side while her attention was on the doctor. _She is obviously in need of that smoother. _While the medication arched across the med bay, Tora reached out to grab the girl.

The syringe went flying in Simon's direction, and a bruising grasp latched around Tora's wrist. With just a flick of motion, the mercenary medic likewise went flying in Simon's direction, colliding heavily with the man. While the pair of medicos attempted to untangle themselves, River dashed out the door.

She ignored the tornado of amusement/concern/respect in the common area and disappeared quickly up the stairs. Her brief moment of lucidity rapidly fading in the presence of too many people. By the time she darted into the galley, she was back to seeing things that couldn't possibly exist. Three butterflies sat on a toadstool, talking with a pair of red-tail hawks, arguing about plums. The Tree of Life stood tall to one side.

Barely making itself heard amid the roaring of thoughts/feelings that she had no part of, her stomach growled. She picked some low-hanging fruit and climbed as high as she dared into the branches of the tree, content that her brother would find it difficult to locate her. The fruit was strangely smoky in flavor, and far crunchier that she'd expected, but having food quieted a small portion of the din. She felt she should be grateful for that much, even if true calm was something out of her reach.

宁静

Several hours after he'd finished the conversation with Hen, someone knocked at Jayne's door. "Damen shi changkai de," Jayne yelled, not bothering to get up. He shaved off another microscopic splinter of wood on the piece he was working on and looked up when a pair of boots descended into his room. (7)

"Hey, Jayne," Wash greeted him. "You seen River around? Seems she woke up, freaked out, and ran off before Simon could do anything."

Jayne shook his head. "Not since this mornin'. Ya check the hidey-holes? Last time she disappeared, I found her in the one at the bottom of the stairs."

"We've checked all the obvious places," Wash replied, sitting at Jayne's desk, then scooting the chair over to look at what the big guy was working on. "I didn't know you carved. It's really good – is that," he cocked his head and peered a little closer at the half-finished figurine, "Inara?"

Jayne shrugged. "Just the shape caught in the wood, Wash," he said, then set about putting it and his tools away. "The girl ain't tried goin' outside, has she?"

Wash shook his head. "Nope. Mal triple-checked all the suits, and there's none missing."

The mercenary glanced at the chrono and discovered that it was rapidly approaching dinner time. "I'm sure she'll turn up when she gets hungry, iffen she don't aforehand."

"Speaking of," the blonde replied. "What is on the menu tonight, o great and wondrous chef of chefs?" Counter to all expectations held when Jayne had joined the crew, it had turned out that the imposing muscle-bound man had a knack for crafting food that tasted like food from the plentiful protein. Granted, it never was anything fancy, but it wasn't merely edible, either.

"Dunno yet," Jayne replied, stowing the figurine and his tools in their cubby. "Hafta see what Kaylee picked up yesterday."

"I'm almost positive she managed some real meat," Wash offered. "Beef cubes or some such."

"I'll take a look," Jayne said, making a 'time to leave' gesture at the pilot.

Wash noticed it, but chose to ignore the suggestion. "Can I ask a question, one that's got nothing to do with dinner?" Jayne made a 'go ahead' gesture. "Uh, how is it you have a thirty-year chit?"

"How'd ya know 'bout that?"

"Saw him give it to you last night," Wash admitted. "Either you've been lying about your age or…" he let it trail off.

"Not lyin'," Jayne said. "Earned m'Blacks at ten. Ma signed me over to the Guild Hall when I was only a coupla months shy of six years old." The look of horror on the pilot's face had Jayne chuckling. "No, not like _that_. Her older brother runs Balanced Sun Hall. He ain't never had kids of his own, so he raised me by puttin' me inta greens. Pro'ly the best thing he coulda done."

"How's that?" Wash asked. He didn't need definitions yet – his own family had lived across the street from a Guild Hall back on Beaumonde.

For the third time in a twenty-four hour period, Jayne remembered the day he had to throw away his then-favorite yellow t-shirt. "Got expelled from school. Ma didn't have the time ta teach me on her own. Pop had died only a few months before, an' there was still seven of us livin' at home. Iffen Hen hadn't put me in greens, pro'ly woulda wound up dead or in prison long afore m'sixteenth birthday." He shook his head to dispel the memory and stood. He stared down at the pilot. "Sittin' here jawin' ain't gettin' dinner made." He grabbed the back of the chair and pushed it over to the ladder.

Wash took the hint. "Oh, I see how you are," he teased, a fake-sad look on his face. "Throwing me out, just when the story was getting interesting."

Jayne tipped the chair forwards and dumped the pilot at the foot of his ladder. "Gotta save somethin' fer y'all ta wonder on," Jayne said.

Wash scurried out of Jayne's room before the mercenary could be given a chance to take the teasing and make it more serious than intended. Jayne followed him up after replacing his chair at the desk. Halfway down the corridor, a shrill whistle pierced the air, coming from the cargo bay. "What in the tian xiaode was that?" Wash asked, halting suddenly enough that Jayne nearly plowed into the smaller man. (8)

"Comp'ny dinner bell," Jayne explained, feeling slightly homesick for the Hall for the first time since he'd been a newly-commissioned Gold Band at eighteen. "Ev'ryone eats t'gether when possible." He gave Wash a little shove to get the man moving again.

Once he finally arrived in the galley, Jayne headed for the kitchen and began poking around in the cabinets. In the freeze-box, he did indeed discover a couple of pounds of beef. _Well, it's red meat. Dunno iffen it's really beef. Might be horse or goat._ He put it in a hotbox to thaw quickly, then headed for the pantry. _Think we got a can o'peas still hidin' in here,_ he thought, opening the door. _Might be some potatoes, too._ It didn't take long to find the various canned veggies he was looking for, and on his way out, he glanced up and noticed something out of place.

River was curled up on the topmost shelf to the left of the door, holding an empty bag of jerky-style protein snacks. "Li'l bit, ya ought ta come down from there afore yer brother finds ya," he said, juggling the cans he was carrying.

River looked through him. "_Capra aegagrus hircus_, of the family bovidae. Not _Bos primigenius_. Not _Equus ferus caballus_. Have _Solanum tuberosum_ and _Allium cepa_ in the bins under the spices. Would taste good together. Also, rennet-congealed milk solids, aged for six months, can be located in the refrigerator."

In danger of dropping a can of green beans, Jayne just nodded and headed back to the kitchen. He deposited the cans on the counter and mused on what River had said. _'_Capra aegagrus hircus_'… Ain't 'capra' a breed of goat? Know 'equus' usually has somethin' ta do wi' horses, so she said it ain't horsemeat. So, iffen the three options I was thinkin' on were beef, horse, an' goat, an' she said it weren't horse, an' it _is_ goat, then the other one gotta be beef. The other two she said, though… _Solanum tuberosum _and_ Allium cepa_… Dunno at all 'bout the second one, but ain't 'tuber' another word fer potato?_ Rather than try to puzzle it out on his own, he simply pulled open the bin under their often-bare spice rack. It did, indeed, contain potatoes. Onions too. He grabbed six of the former and two of the latter. _Now, that last bit… 'Rennet'… Sounds familiar. Didn't Ma use it ta make cheese?_ Sure enough, in the fridge, he located a brick of cheddar.

Feeling somewhat smug about having successfully decoded Riverspeak, Jayne made short work of dicing the onions and potatoes. By the time he'd finished, the meat was thawed. The onions, potatoes, and meat were dumped into a frying pan and while he waited for them to cook, he got out a soup pot and opened the tins of veggies.

By the time supper was done, the smells had managed to bring most of the crew to the table. Jayne added some pepper to the mixed peas, carrots, corn, and green beans, then looked up. "Yer sister's hidin' in the pantry, doc," he said at a pause in the others' conversation.

Simon glared at Jayne, "You couldn't have told me this earlier?" He strode over to the door to the pantry.

"Didn't get the chance ta," Jayne replied. "Ain't like she was hurtin' nothin', an' besides, I been busy," he gestured to the nearly-completed meal.

"Still could have said something when I got here _twenty minutes ago_!"

"When, 'xactly, should I've? When ya was chatterin' on wi' Mal?" Jayne punctuated his comment by angrily turning the stove burner off. "An' iffen I had, all y'all woulda done was harp on me fer interruptin'! Don't try an' deny it none, either – ya _know_ I'm right." He picked up the pan of cheese-sauce and carried it over to the table while continuing on his rant, "Wo shi chedi yanjuanle zai zhe sou chuanshang mei geren de tizuiyang!" He ended it by slamming the pot down onto the table, next to the bowl of steaming veggies and the dish of potatoes-and-meat. (9)

"Now, that isn't true," Simon argued. "Nobody thinks you're a scapegoat!"

"Hah! Who got blamed when yer fengle sister got hold of m'gun? The only gorram time my bunk's unlocked is iffen I'm in it! What 'bout when yer fancy li'l waistcoat went missin'? Who got blamed fer _that_? Was it Inara, the one who _borrowed _the gui sunzi thing 'thout tellin' ya? _No!_ Course not! Anytime somethin' goes missin' or somethin' goes wrong all y'all," he cast his gaze around the room, "blame _me_!" (10)

There was nearly ten seconds of total silence. Jayne looked at his 'crew' and scowled. The only one who looked even slightly guilty was Kaylee; _An' she got the least ta feel it over._ "I ain't hungry," he grumbled, then stormed past them. His feet were trying to take him to his bunk, but he knew that would simply result in someone barging in later. He headed straight past, instead, and climbed down the stairs to the cargo bay.

The Qianfeng were seated around their pair of tables, dining on ration-packs and laughing together. _Don't fit wi' them no more, either._ A shriek from the galley of 'No more ruttin' needles!' filtered down and Jayne repressed a smile. _Good ta see I ain't the only one what's sick of how the rest treat me._ He faded away before any of the mercenaries could spot him.

He wound up in Book's old room. _Wish he hadn't got off the ship. Could use some talkin' right 'bout now._

* * *

**A/N2:** Do I need to keep translating the 'new' Chinese words I've been using a lot (zhu, for example) or can I back off of translating those and the more common ones from canon (like hundan and fengle)?

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Huzi_ – 'tiger' (affectionate, parental), translation by Laowaichinese-dot-net.

2.) _Shushu_ – 'uncle', translation by Google.

3.) _Yuchun de hundan_ – 'stupid bastard', translation by Google and Browncoats-dot-com.

4.) _Shushu_ – 'uncle', translation by Google.

5.) _Huzi_ – 'tiger' (affectionate, parental), translation by Laowaichinese-dot-net.

6.) _Shushu_ – 'uncle', translation by Google.

7.) _Damen shi changkai de_ – 'the door is open', translation by Google.

8.) _Tian xiaode_ – 'name of all that's sacred', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

9.) _Wo shi chedi yanjuanle zai zhe sou chuanshang mei geren de tizuiyang_ – 'I am thoroughly sick of being everybody's scapegoat on this ship', translation by Google.

10.) _Fengle_, _Gui sunzi_ – 'loopy in the head', 'bastard', translations by Browncoats-dot-com and Wikipedia.


	8. A First Lesson

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **Herein we get a little Jayne and Kaylee interaction, then Jayne and River.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Eight: A First Lesson_

Jayne and Mac traded a long look. Jayne nodded. _This ain't gettin' us nowhere. _He stood from the wobbly stool and crossed the cement floor over to where Shon was standing just outside the small spotlight. Dog was busy checking the vitals of their prisoner.

"Laoban?" Shon asked, packing the word with all sorts of meaning, including 'hey' and 'something wrong?' and 'this ain't gettin' us anywhere'. (1)

"Figure we gotta take it up a notch, Chiv," Jayne said, his distaste for the idea obvious, as was his desperation. "We _know_ this hundan knows what we're after." (2)

Jayne glanced back at his second in command. Mac nodded and stepped out of the shadows to stand on Shon Chiv's other side. "Any means necessary," Mac said.

A bitter gleam shone through Shon's nearly black eyes. "Pain is scary," he muttered, making the hair on the back of Dog's neck stand up. "Shi," he said a little louder, looking first at Mac, then at Jayne. (3)

Jayne nodded again, then left his second to oversee the interrogation as he wearily climbed the stairs of the cabin. The living room was very still, even with most of the rest of the company crowded onto the ratty sofa and broken-down armchairs. Opal stood over near the boarded-up window, peering through a conveniently-placed knothole, out at the night. Jayne knew without a doubt what she was staring at: the pair of graves, one fresh, the other just now sporting a light coating of new growth, tucked back against the low fence marking the cabin's land from the surrounding forest.

"Did we get the intel we need?" Opal asked, not looking away from the peephole.

"Not yet," Jayne replied. "But we _will_." He walked over to his sniper and rested a hand on her shoulder. "One way or th'other, we'll get them what done for Ruby. Ya have m'own promise on it."

Opal nodded, still not looking away from the shadowy grave of her recently-deceased lover.

宁静

"Jayne?" Kaylee's voice startled him out of his dream. He sat up, blinking and feeling a strange sense of dislocation until he realized he'd fallen asleep in Shepherd Book's old room.

"Yeah?"

Kaylee crossed the room, carrying a tray. "Saved ya some dinner," she handed him the tray, then sat down on the floor next to him.

"Xiexie, Kaylee-girl," Jayne said, then started picking through the meal. "Shouldn'ta stormed off like that, but…" (4)

"I know," Kaylee replied. "Ev'ryone's always seen ya one way and that's _it_. Don't blame ya none for snappin' at us."

"Ya know what I said, 'bout bein' ev'ryone's scapegoat? Ya know it weren't aimed at _you_, right?" He spoke around a mouthful of potatoes and meat.

Kaylee nodded. "Yeah, I know. You was more angry at Simon an' the cap'n."

The pair sat in amicable silence while Jayne finished his meal in record time. Setting the tray aside, Jayne sighed. "'Member that first job after I come aboard?" Kaylee nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. "Been thinkin' on the night after, when ya was explainin' a few things ta me, mostly 'bout Inara an' Mal. I 'member ya sayin' how Mal saw his crew as a family. Since then, I seen it. Yer his li'l meimei. Zoë's his twin. Wash is the quirky brother-in-law," he let out a strangely melancholy chuckle. "Ev'ry family has one or two o'them," he commented, thinking on his two oldest sisters husbands, either of which could give Wash a run for his money in the 'quirky' department. (5)

Kaylee smiled, "Yeah. Got one of them my own self."

"'Nara, well, she weren't family, not really," Jayne refused to let himself be sidetracked. "But iffen either one of 'em had managed ta let go o'their gorram pride, they coulda had sommat special. Figure 'at's why she left. Could tell it weren't Mal's idea."

"And Simon…?" Kaylee prompted after a moment too long of quiet.

"Hell, he's Mal's new pain-in-the-ass li'l brother, though I'm thinkin' Mal pro'ly sees the girl more as a surrogate daughter." Kaylee nodded, seeing the sense of what Jayne was saying. The big guy let out another sigh. "Jus' sick o'bein' treated like the bastard stepchild in his li'l family." The admission was said very quietly, and Kaylee could see, even in the nearly nonexistent light, it had cost him more than she could know for him to actually say it.

Kaylee felt her eyes swim with sympathetic tears, but managed to keep them from falling. Instead she wrapped an arm around Jayne's shoulders. After a moment, Jayne continued, speaking into the general darkness of the room, instead of to the mechanic. "Ain't like I 'spect him ta suddenly realize I'm ten years his senior an' start havin' me give the orders. Been around long 'nough I know that ain't my place on Serenity. But after the last year, ya'd think he'd at least trust me not ta stab 'im in the back."

Without knowing quite how she'd wrangled it, Jayne found himself laying on the floor with his head in Kaylee's lap. Her fingers traced meaningless patterns in his hair. She made a noncommittal little noise. "Had me the opportunity a dozen times over ta land me a fat payday. Only ever caved once, an'… Well, it weren't right. Knowed it quicklike, too, but by then 'twas too late ta back out."

"Can I ask…?" she gently asked.

"Was on Ariel," Jayne said. "Weren't thinkin' too straight ta begin with. Didn't look serious – an' it weren't, not really – but that slash the girl did me for hurt like a sumbitch."

"And I heard what ya said when ya was gettin' stitched," Kaylee whispered. "'Bout how if she went fuzzy again, it might be Mal or 'Nara or me she come after."

It didn't show, but Kaylee could feel a tiny little shiver race through Jayne. "Yeah," he said. "Kept seein' m'self wakin' up one mornin' ta find a bloody mess up in the galley, or across the bridge, or splashed all over the engines. So, when the doc come up with that hospital hijackin' idea, I figured it'd be a good place fer us ta be rid of 'em."

"Can't say I wouldn'ta done likewise," Kaylee admitted, "if she'd come after me."

Jayne let out a huff of amusement. "Yeah, right. Ya wouldn'ta, iffen only ta keep Simon nearby."

"Ain't no secret I think he's shuai, sure," she said. "But River… I like her, sure, an' feel sorry for her an' all she done been put through, but she scares me sometimes, too. If it'd been me she come after with the knife… Well, I can't really say for sure just how I woulda reacted, personally, but I can see where your head was at." (6)

"Jus' wish I could say it was jus' the good parts as why I done what I did, but the rewards on them's over a million credits," Jayne continued. "'At much money coulda done a lot for my Ma an' li'l sis."

Kaylee chose not to comment on the money, knowing herself well enough that the amount would have even given her reason to sit and think hard on it. "You're the second-youngest, ain'tcha?"

"Yeah. Youngest boy. Got four brothers an' six sisters."

"Isn't your li'l sis the one who was sick a few months back?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Mattie's never been pa'ticularly healthy. She come early an' near didn't live 'tall." Kaylee smirked in the darkness. "What?" Jayne asked, seeing faint evidence of her amusement.

"Just find it funny, is all."

"What?" he repeated.

"That you got a girl-soundin' name, an' your sis has a boy-soundin' name."

Jayne chuckled. "Ain't no mystery, Kaylee-girl. 'Mattie' is short fer Matalynn."

"Then what's your excuse?" she teased.

He shrugged a little. "Wasn't s'posed ta be 'Jayne'. Ma hit a wrong button enterin' in the vital stats when I was born."

"What was it supposed ta be?"

"'Jayme'," he pronounced it as 'HAY-may'. "'S an old word what means 'God may protect'. By the time Ma realized what she'd done, it was too late ta change it. At home, ev'ryone calls me by my middle name."

"An' what's that?"

"Alexander," he replied. "'S what Ma calls me. Most of m'brothers call me 'Alex', an' the girls all call me 'Andy'. 'S only folk who didn't know me who called me Jayne, then I went ta the Halls, an' since m'records all have that as m'name, it's what ev'ryone else called me. Eventually got used ta it."

"I like it," Kaylee said. "Was always one of my favorite names, an' I think it's cute how your sisters have a different name for ya than your brothers."

They fell into another companionable silence. After an indeterminate amount of time, Jayne sighed and shifted so he could look up at Kaylee's face. "Been thinkin'."

"What on?"

"Leavin'," Jayne replied, not bothering to sugar-coat it. He lifted a hand and laid a finger across her lips to silence her denials. "Ain't yer decision, guibao." He lowered his hand. (7)

"But –"

"Ain't like Mal really _needs_ me," Jayne interrupted before she could get out more than a single syllable. "He an' Zoë did fine for how long? Two years? Afore I come on board."

"That ain't the point!"

"Shush, Kaylee-girl, I ain't done yet." He waited for her to close her mouth. "It ain't just bein' this crew's black sheep what's wearin' on m'nerves. I been runnin' from some bad mem'ries fer a good long while now. An' this job, runnin' Guild folk… It's brought up them mem'ries in a strong way. Been on m'own fer too ruttin' long."

"Please, don't leave," Kaylee couldn't keep the hurt from her voice.

"Ain't nothin' been decided on, Kaylee-girl," Jayne replied. "Jus' lettin' ya know what I been thinkin'. An' I been avoidin' my responsibilities ta the Guild fer far too long. 'S jus' a matter o'time afore I can't ignore them any more."

"What's that s'posed ta mean?"

"Means, guibao, that there's only a dozen or so folk what have more time in than me an' are still active. 'Zhongcheng de gonghui suoyou qita shiwu dou shi ci yao de' ain't just words, ya know. Been expected ta take over Balanced Sun Hall when m'uncle decides ta retire ever since I was twenty." (8)

"He thinkin' on retiring soon?"

Jayne shook his head. "Not 'at he's tol' me none."

Kaylee narrowed her eyes at the mercenary. "Then how come ya's thinkin' on it?"

"'Cause the only place where I ever fit was the Hall," he said. "Don't know how much longer I can stand workin' fer a man what don't trust me, fer a man what'll take the word o'someone he jus' met over mine." Jayne could see Kaylee was gearing up to argue with him, so he decided to explain a little more fully. "Mal _don't _trust me. Zoë an' Wash certainly don't, neither. Ain't no secret what the doc thinks of me. Only one on this gorram boat that _do_ trust me is _you_… An' _maybe_ the li'l bit, but I ain't too sure on that one yet."

"You mean River?" Kaylee asked. Jayne nodded. "Think that's pro'ly the nicest thing you've called her. Kinda cute. 'Li'l bit'. Fits, too." He glared lightly at her usage of the word 'cute'. She ignored it. "Though I'm thankful ya count me as one who trusts ya – which I do, by-the-by – I didn't think ya'd ever say as much 'bout River." She blinked, recalling what he'd told her about his actions during the hospital heist. "An' especially not if she knows what ya did on Ariel."

He shrugged. "Ta borrow her words on it, 'Bad ideas traded, scales are even.'" At Kaylee's confused face, he clarified, "She was admittin' what she done to me," he traced the fading scar through his t-shirt, "was a fair trade fer what I done on Ariel."

"When did she say that? She ain't been too coherent the past coupla days."

Jayne frowned. "Yesterday? Last night? This mornin'? Hard ta say, 'xactly. Time don't run like normal inside yer own head."

"Huh?"

The mercenary chuckled. "She threw her own thoughts inta m'head last night. From what she said, she was lookin' fer someplace what wasn't noisy. All the new folks on board 'pparently think too loud fer her. Gave me one _bitch_ of a headache, ta tell the truth."

"So _that's _why Simon couldn't wake her!"

He nodded. "Yep. Weren't nobody home _to_ wake."

"How come she ain't never done it afore?"

"From what she said, I'm thinkin' it ain't easy ta do, an' it depends on the person. She don't like hidin' in Mal or Simon's minds 'cause they worry too much. Think she figures hidin' in Wash or Zoë'd be too intrusivelike. An', ya know we love ya fer it, but yer too gorram cheerful most o'the time. There's only so much cheer a body can take at one go, ya know."

Kaylee couldn't argue the point, not with that same cheery attitude being the primary reason why her and Jayne's relationship had started out hot'n'steamy, but died out just as quickly, leaving a couple of weeks of hardness to each other, before finally settling into their current sibling-style give-and-take. A yawn took her by surprise. Jayne laughed at her. "Looks like ya ought ta go find yer bunk," he said, pushing himself up off of the floor. He stretched and yawned himself, then held a hand out. Kaylee accepted his assistance in pulling her to her feet.

"Looks like ya ought ta follow your own advice," she replied.

After seeing Kaylee safely to her bunk and depositing the tray back in the galley, Jayne wasn't tired any longer. He ambled up the stairs to the bridge, half-hoping to catch Wash playing with his dinosaurs, but was disappointed to find that the bridge was deserted, with the auto-pilot lights blinking softly in the dark. Bypassing both seats at the controls, he descended into the area forward of the control panels.

The only other Firefly he'd ever flown on had been retrofitted with a pulse weapon, and the area where he currently stood on Serenity had been where the other Firefly's gun-controls were. It had the single best view of anywhere aboard, with windows arching up and around the nose of the ship. It was his favorite place, particularly when no one else was up. He dug into a box he'd left there several months ago and pulled out a thick blanket and a small pillow, then stretched out on the floor. All the windows meant that it was also the _coldest_ part of the ship, but he didn't mind. If he ignored the frames for the windows, lying there he could _almost_ believe he was back at the Hall's acreage on the far side of Persephone, kept for wilderness survival training. All that was missing was the soft crackle of a low campfire.

"Found you," River's voice shattered his daydream.

He twisted his head to find the girl sitting at the bottom of the stairs. "So ya did, li'l bit. Need sommat in pa'ticular?"

"Silence," she replied, all doe-eyes and quivering lower lip.

"Figured," Jayne said, sitting up. He unwrapped the blanket from himself and spread it on the floor. He then took off his boots and sat them next to the stairs, then undid his gun belt and laid it over his boots. "Come on, then. How's about I show ya how ta do this properlike?"

He stepped over to one side of the blanket and beckoned for River to join him. Once she was standing on the other side and facing him, he knelt down. "Don't matter much how ya sit," he said. "Most folk prefer that 'lotus' fang pi, but after the first time I was shot in m'hip, it don't bend sideways no more, not 'nough fer that." (9)

River walked around Jayne, examining his position. His feet were crossed at the ankles, supporting his butt. His knees were splayed just far enough apart to give him some lateral stability, and his back was perfectly straight, but the muscles were all relaxed. His hands rested, relaxed and palms-up, on his thighs. All-in-all, it gave her the impression that he could sit like that for _days_, if need be.

"Why sit?"

One of Jayne's eyebrows twitched up a little higher than its fellow. "'Cause iffen ya try an' stand through it, ya ain't gonna relax enough fer it ta work, an' iffen yer lyin' down, ya lose too much connection wi' yerself. 'S why, I'm thinkin', ya got trapped last time."

Instead of answering, River gracefully lowered herself into a full lotus position on her side of the blanket. Once she was settled, she asked, "Ni xiang yao shenme wo zuo xia?" (10)

"Control yer breathin'," Jayne said. "In through yer nose, out through yer mouth. Counts of four. So, in-two-three-four. Hold-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four. Hold-two-three-four. In-two-three-four. Keep repeatin' it 'til yer body gets the message an' continues on its own." As promised by Simon those many months ago, it didn't take long at all for the girl to catch on. "Close yer eyes an' – I know this part'll be hard – but try _not _ta think. Any thoughts, yers or not, what pop inta yer head, just ignore 'em. I know ya can't just push 'em away like I tend ta do, but don't let 'em break yer breathin' none. Let 'em jus'… wash over ya. Like swimmin' in the ocean. Relax inta it, an' make them thoughts just so much background noise." He could see that however she interpreted his words, it seemed to be working. The faint vertical line between her brows was rapidly fading. "Now, when ya go lookin' fer that door I left fer ya, don't abandon yer senses completely. Leave sommat of yerself behind, monitorin' the systems, so-ta-speak. I'm sure ya ain't wantin' ta get stuck again, an' I'm sure yer brother wouldn't be best pleased iffen he finds ya an' can't wake ya again. So, it'd be a good idea ta leave some part o'yerself checkin' in wi' yer ears an' skin an' such."

He could feel a light pressure in his head and knew it was the girl. Jayne reached over and shook her shoulder. "Li'l bit?"

The pressure evaporated and she opened her eyes. "What?"

Jayne smiled. "Good. Seems like ya got it. Think ya can do it faster this time?" She echoed his smile and nodded. Closing her eyes, she quickly fell into the appropriate breathing pattern. Moments later, the pressure in Jayne's head was back. Only a lifetime of practice had him beating her time.

宁静

The dojo was precisely as they'd left it, complete with blackboard on the wall. River, however, was not wearing the pink sweater over her red dress, but a gi similar to Jayne's own, only tied with a white obi instead of a black one. The pair were sitting in the middle of the room, in positions mirrored by their bodies back in the real world. "Thank you," River said.

Jayne shrugged. "Ain't no call fer thankin', li'l bit."

"As you say," she replied. Her tone was enough that Jayne could tell she didn't think mere thanks were enough. "You've been thinking about leaving," she said, uncurling her legs and stretching out on the floor, propping her head up with her left hand.

Jayne saw no reason to deny it. "Have been fer a while now," he said.

"I don't know if the door you made is the cause or if it's just that you've had a couple of rather stressful days, but I've been overhearing more of your thoughts today than I normally do." She chewed on the inside of her lip. "Don't leave."

"Ain't really plannin' on it," Jayne replied. "Jus' musin' on m'options."

"You should talk to Zoë."

"What about?"

"The last time you went to Ita," River stated it bluntly. "She'd understand. And with her on your side with Kaylee, the captain will find himself forced to reevaluate you. He's already halfway there."

"Huh?"

"He's been speaking with the Qianfeng, finding out the stereotype of 'dumb merc' is definitely not something which can be applied to Guild mercenaries. He'll eventually get around to realizing you are counted among the best, but it'll go quicker if Zoë's whispering in one ear."

"An' Kaylee in the other, I suppose?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Cap'n Mal's deaf in his left ear. Lost the hearing on that side during the war."

"He covers it pretty good, 'cause I ain't never noticed. But I s'pose that's why Zoë nearly always is walkin' on his right." River nodded. "Changin' the subject entirely," he said, "can I ask ya sommat?"

"Depends on what it is," she echoed his own reply from their earlier conversation in his mental 'happy place'.

"When's yer birthday?"

She blinked. Of all the questions he could have asked her, that one was so far down her list that she'd discounted it's probability as impossible. "June fourteenth," she said. "Why?"

"Hmm…" Jayne thought hard, trying to pull up the current date.

Even without reading him, River knew Jayne often lost track of the days, so she came to his rescue. "It's in three days. I repeat, why?"

"'Cause ya gotta be eighteen ta sign wi' the Guild, 'less a parent okays it. An' since yer folks ain't handy ta say their okays, then ya gotta wait."

River narrowed her eyes at the merc. "And why would I sign on with the Guild?"

Jayne scrubbed a hand across his face, realizing he could have figured out a better way to explain. "Because, li'l bit, we take care of our own. It's the Guild motto, 'Zhongcheng de gonghui suoyou qita shiwu dou shi ci yao de'." (11)

"The first loyalty is to the Guild, all else is secondary," she automatically translated it. At his nod, she smiled lightly. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"Firstly, it'd mean ya'd have a shot at gettin' that damage what was done ta yer brain fixed," he explained. "A while back, there was a right nasty accident wi' one o'the recruits. Caught a Shim in his head."

"An arrow tipped with a small explosive charge?"

Jayne nodded again. "Right in one, li'l bit. Blew half his skull away an' vaporized a fist-sized piece o'his brain. Lucky hundan didn't die, though. Guild saw to it he was put back in order, much as could be done." (12)

"He was sent to a regeneration clinic?" River sounded impressed. "I thought those were strictly experimental."

"They is," Jayne said, "but the public don't know the only reason fer that is 'cause it's too expensive ta commercialize yet. The science-stuff's all finalized an' works like it's s'posed ta. An' he weren't sent nowhere – the docs came ta us."

"I was unaware the Medical Elect held the Guild in such high esteem."

Jayne chuckled. "They don't, but they come fer the same reason the 'Liance lets us handle our own affairs – they're scared o'pissin' us off."

"And secondly?" River asked once her own giggles died down.

"Secondly…" Jayne's smile disappeared and he was as serious as River could ever remember seeing him. "Secondly, iffen them like what followed us back on Ariel, iffen they ever come after ya again, ya'd have the whole of the Guild standin 'tween ya an' them."

Even the oblique way he mentioned the blue-gloved men was enough to send a shiver of fear coursing through her. Borrowing Jayne's amygdala, she pushed the fear aside. "Is there a thirdly?"

The corners of his mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles. "Thirdly, yer warrants will be expunged. The Guild don't care what you done afore ya sign with 'em, so they got a deal wi' the 'Liance – anyone wi' a warrant gets it erased when they join the Guild. If ya go on an' break Guild laws after that, then we deal wi' it. Likewise if yer caught doin' sommat the gov'ment don't look too kindly on, like murderin' an' rapin', sommat like that happens, an' the Guild usually lets the 'Liance handle it."

"But not always?"

He shook his head. "Nope, not always. Sometimes, the rotten apples show up by doin' evil on another Guildsman. In them cases, we take care o'it." His slightly feral smirk left no room for doubt on how those 'rotten apples' were dealt with in-house.

"Though I can see the sense in your idea, I hope you realize that Simon won't like it at all."

Jayne hadn't actually needed the caution, but he appreciated it nonetheless. "I know. I'm hopin' that the first reason all by its own self will be enough ta get him on board. He's been tryin' ta 'fix' ya since I knowed 'im."

"Perhaps it will," River said, though her expression clearly indicated she thought otherwise. "But, in all honesty, I don't think anything short of a time-machine will truly make Simon happy."

* * *

**A/N2:** I don't know why, but I'm having an extraordinary amount of fun writing this particular story. I hope y'all are having even half as much fun reading it!

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Laoban_ – 'boss', translation by Google.

2.) _Hundan_ – 'bastard', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

3.) _Shi_ – 'affirmative', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

4.) _Xiexie_ – 'thank you', translation by Google.

5.) _Meimei_ – 'sister', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

6.) _Shuai_ –'handsome', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

7.) _Guibao_ – 'person of remarkable ability', translation by MDBG-dot-net.

8.) _ Guibao_, _Zhongcheng de gonghui suoyou qita shiwu dou shi ci yao de_ – 'person of remarkable ability', 'The first loyalty is to the Guild, all else is secondary', translations by MDBG-dot-net and Google.

9.) _Fang pi_ – 'shit', translation by Wikipedia.

10.) _Ni xiang yao shenme wo zuo xia_ – 'what do you want me to do next', translation by Google.

11.) _Zhongcheng de gonghui suoyou qita shiwu dou shi ci yao de_ – 'The first loyalty is to the Guild, all else is secondary', translation by Google.

12.) _Hundan_ – 'bastard', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.


	9. Scheming

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **Be forewarned, there's a bit of seeming nonsense in this chapter, but I explain my reasoning in the second A/N.

Also, I realized a major error regarding timeframes in previous chapters. I know canon has it that it's a three-week journey from Persephone to Jiangyin and since I suck at math, I figured that – working nonstop – Serenity would be able to make four trips in three months. See my error yet? I forgot to factor in the return-trip time; three weeks out and three weeks back for four trips would wind up taking six months, which is too long a time period for what I want this portion of the story to cover. Ergo, I went back and corrected where I mentioned 'three weeks' in chapter three and endeavor to fudge it a little in this chapter so that it makes sense to do four runs in three months.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Nine: Scheming  
_

It wasn't difficult for Jayne to insert himself in among the various workers and their families surrounding Mill 34. A couple of days without shaving, trading his cargo pants for bibs, and adding a thick flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled had him looking just like he belonged at the company 'party' that was being thrown.

_Party, yeah. Gorram publicity stunt's what it is. Dumbass corporate zhuangbi. Ain't a one of 'em wi' any common sense. _He spent much of his time chatting up a pretty girl whose father was one of the sawmill's foremen while keeping one eye on the temporary stage erected in front of the sawmill's loading dock. "Laoban," his earpiece buzzed, "mark-two an' countin'." It was Matt's voice. Luckily the girl had just said something to which a positive reply made sense. (1)

"I hear that," Jayne said, grinning at the blonde nineteen year old.

Before she could reply, a man wearing a suit stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone. High-pitched squealing feedback made everyone wince. Jayne's was a little more of a reaction than most, but that was because the feedback cycled through his earpiece as well. "Cao ni zuzong shiba dai!" he muttered, earning a curious look from the blonde _and_ a 'what?' through his earpiece. "Nothin'," he said, directing his comment to the girl and hoping Matt had enough sense to realize he was speaking to him, too. (2)

The man on the stage looked a little sheepish, "I'm sorry about that, folks. The man who invents feedback-proof mics is going to wind up _very_ wealthy!" There were some polite little chuckles from the crowd, even though it wasn't all that funny. "I am, as most of you know already, Hector Wen, Mill 34's general manager. And I'm also sure that the majority of you all have heard the nasty rumors circulating about the accidents that Kepler's fine loggers and millers have been through these past few months; that these were acts of corporate terrorism, or eco-terrorism, or evil little pixies," he got a bigger laugh for the pixie-line. "Well, I stand before you today to stress that those accidents were simply that – accidents. Tragic, certainly, but nothing more than bad luck."

Jayne surreptitiously glanced around. Most of the crowd seemed relieved at Mr. Wen's assertion. He restrained the urge to roll his eyes. _Yesu, but plain folks are sheep. Don't none of 'em think? Takin' this hundan's word fer it that what killed their kin weren't nothin' more serious 'an a taoqi de xiao emo out fer laughs?_ (3)

Almost as though he could hear Jayne's thoughts, the man on the stage continued by saying, "But I don't expect you to simply take my word for it. This is why Alvin Feng-Munroe – yes, Kepler, Incorporated's very own CEO – has come out to Mill 34 today! Let's give Mr. Feng-Munroe a warm round of applause, shall we?" Clapping, Mr. Wen backed away from the podium as a much older man in a nearly identical suit stepped forwards.

Jayne blinked, hard, to activate the contact-lens scanner he was wearing. While the crowd clapped like Feng-Munroe was some sort of actual celebrity, the scanner powered up. "It's him," he said, the quiet words going unnoticed by the crowd.

"Copy that," Matt's voice said in his ear.

Jayne slipped away from the crowd as Feng-Munroe began speaking. "Wuan, good people, and such a lovely day it is, too!" The man was a powerful presence on the stage. Even though the CEO was their current objective, Jayne had to admire the man's poise. (4)

Jayne worked his way to the edge of the loading dock area, making it appear as though he were heading for the portable toilets the company had brought in to accommodate close to five hundred guests. "Clear," he muttered, ducking behind the bright green closetlike enclosures and fading quickly into the dense underbrush.

"Copy," Matt repeated. "Firing solution in five, four, three…"

Jayne paused at a tiny clearing that gave him a direct view of the stage below. Feng-Munroe's head seemed to explode of it's own volition, the echo of the rifle blast rolled through nearly three-and-a-half seconds after the fact. "Target down," Matt stated.

"Confirmed," Jayne replied. "Hao gongzuo. Now head back ta the rendezvous. Their house dicks're gonna be all over this in only a coupla minutes." (5)

"Shi, laoban, see ya at the rendezvous in twenty," the radio went silent. Jayne took a moment to remove his own earwig and the contact lens, tucking them into a small pocket secreted in the button-fold of his flannel shirt. (6)

Thirty minutes later, Jayne, Matt, and Bill were settled in their small shuttle. Molly Raybie, officially one of the Hong Long trackers, was flying the small craft at a suicidally low altitude. The bottom of the shuttle was maybe only six feet or so above the surface of the river she was using as a 'road'. When her range-marker indicated they were a good thousand kilometers from the mess they'd left behind, she lifted into a more appropriate altitude and headed for Xiang San Ji. While flying, Jayne contacted their employers and informed them of the successful mission. (7)

The four mercenaries spent several hours in Xiang San Ji, mostly wasting time and putting a little distance between them and any possible connection to the recent assassination of Alvin Feng-Munroe, but also burning off the adrenaline of a dangerous mission, with a dash of resupply thrown in for good measure. Jayne was in the middle of bartering with the clerk of a general store when Molly ran in, looking far more frantic than he'd ever seen her before. "Ni hai hao ma?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and stepping away from the clerk. (8)

She spoke quickly and quietly. The fact that her normally-repressed Dyton accent was stronger than he'd ever heard it before let Jayne know what she had to say was far from good news before she even managed more than three words. "Me plates was achin' so's I went ta wait fer ya in th'tin tuttle. Got aftershave from Kit while I was there – she'd been wantin' some more Rosie Lee – but it cut off mid-bloody-word. Cain't raise a one now!" *

Frustrated with the Dyton slang, Jayne quietly, yet sternly, ordered, "Speak English or Chinee, Molly! I ain't even tryin' ta wade through Dyton right now."

Molly took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then managed to repeat her message in her typical accentless manner. "Was on a wave with Kit when it cut out mid-word. Ain't been able to raise nobody back at the cabin."

"System issue?"

She shook her head, brown curls bouncing. "No – I got through to the automated weather station just fine. Checked that I could get through to people, too. Managed to reach Bill'n'Matt's portable, even though they forgot it in the shuttle."

Though it was closing in on eighty degrees, even inside the store, Jayne felt like he'd suddenly been dunked in ice water.

宁静

Yawning and stretching, Wash headed to the bridge to make his standard course-corrections, grateful that the orbital speed of Jiangyin had it only a week-and-a-half from Persephone for the next few months. "Don't even wanna imagine what this job'd be like if it was this time next year," he spoke quietly to his stegosaurus. "Travel time then would wind up being close to two months."

The corrections entered, he stood and stretched again. "Breakfast time," he muttered. As he turned to head back to his quarters and change out of his pajamas, he caught sight of the heavy, dark blue blanket that had turned up about a year ago in a box on the foredeck. Curious, he stepped forwards and spotted Jayne sprawled on top of it. "Always did wonder where that came from," this time, the comment was directed at his allosaurus.

Wash scooped up the little plastic palm tree and sat at the top of the stairs. "Hey, Jayne?" he tried using a normal tone of voice to start with, but when the big guy didn't so much as twitch, he upped the volume some. "Jayne!" he tossed the palm tree and bounced it off of Jayne's head.

Jayne startled and sat up, groping for a weapon. "Huh?" he blinked, realized where he was, then scowled at Wash. "Ain't funny," he complained.

Wash chuckled. "Depends on where you're sitting, I suppose. Just thought you might want to wake up, maybe grab some breakfast. Didn't figure you'd be too happy if anyone else found you snoring down there. Did you know you drool?"

"Do not," Jayne snapped, automatically reaching up to wipe his face.

Wash laughed again. "Whatever you say, Jayne. Whatever you say." He stood and started to head back to his room when the plastic palm tree bounced off his own head. He didn't so much as blink, but scooped it off of the floor and sat it back on the console before leaving.

Alone again, Jayne scrubbed his hands across his face, dislodging sleep-sand from the corners of his eyes. After stretching out some of the stiffness sleeping on the deck had settled into his back, he sat on the stairs and pulled his boots on. His attention wandered out to the stars outside as he finished tying the laces. _Li'l bit had a good point last night. The doc ain't gonna listen none iffen I try an' sell him on the idea o' her joinin' the Guild. He'd likely jus' say 'no' simply 'cause it's _my_ idea. He'd pro'ly at least _listen_ iffen any o'the othern come up wi' it. Wonder if Kaylee'd pitch it fer me? She knows the sorts o'benefits ta be had, what wi' Artie servin' Sleepin' Dragon Hall._

He ran the scenario through his mind and winced. _Nah, wouldn't work. She'd be all sidetracked on her crush, an' the doc'd be right there an' wind up swallowin' his feet again, an' she'd storm off in a tempest o'womanly ire, an' nothin'd get settled._

Jayne stood and clipped his gun belt back into place. _So, if not Kaylee, then how 'bout Wash? Think I recall 'im sayin' he grew up across from Spearpoint Hall, so he'd know at least a li'l 'bout the Guild._ Again, he ran the possibility through his imagination. After an imaginary Wash replied 'no clue' to an imaginary Simon's questions, Jayne shook his head. _Nope. Don't know 'nough. Zoë? Mal?_ He dismissed both options without bothering to imagine them. _No, neither one has any clue 'tall 'bout how we handle shit. Even iffen they hadn't been so s'prised ta find out I'm a Guildsman, it's plain as day neither knows more 'an the rumors 'bout the Guild._

He climbed to the cockpit, then ambled in the direction of the galley. _What if I had one o'the Qianfeng have a chat wi' 'im? Ibsen might do – the doc seemed alright wi' her helpin' in the infirmary. _A small smile tugged the corners of his mouth. _Hafta wonder what he'd say iffen he finds out she's pro'ly got more trainin' than he does? MedAcad's what? Four years, normally? Think 'at's right. Medics fer the Guild get at least six years' trainin', mainly 'cause they gotta know what they're doin' when there ain't no hospital handy._

Entering the galley, he found River sitting on the table, still wearing her dress from the day before. "Sees her as a paramedic," she said, talking to her feet. "Thinking loud," she glanced at him through the curtain of her hair. "Sound leaks more when there are cracks."

"Ain't tryin' ta be no bother, li'l bit," Jayne replied, knowing she was referring to the 'cracks' around his mental 'door'. He assembled the percolator and dug the canister of coffee out of the cupboards. "But who sees who as a paramedic?"

"Simon. He assumes the Amazonian healer to be less educated than he himself."

Jayne sat the percolator in the sink and turned on the tap. "Ya know yer nearly sensible when ev'ryone else's sleepin'."

"A banked fire throws less heat," she replied, looking back at her toes.

"Or not," he allowed, then shut off the tap. "So yer sayin' Ibsen ain't the one ta try an' explain 'bout how ya signin'd be a good idea?" She nodded. Jayne sat the percolator on the stove and turned it on. The faint sounds of the mercenaries down in the cargo bay beginning to wake up filtered through the open doors. While waiting for the coffee to brew, he asked, "What 'bout the othern? Maybehaps have Hu talk wi' yer brother?"

"'There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers, who were all brothers, for they had been made out of the same old tin spoon. They shouldered arms and looked straight before them, and wore a splendid uniform, red and blue.'" River's reply sounded vaguely familiar, but Jayne couldn't place it. **

"Sorry, girl, but I don't follow," Jayne grabbed his favorite mug and sat it on the counter next to the stove.

River made an odd growly noise and tried again. The press of minds was becoming too much – it was always worst in the mornings, before the passengers had a chance to settle into their day. "Mirror facing mirror, reflections unto eternity. Simon sees. He doesn't comprehend."

Jayne mulled that over, his mind providing him a memory of standing between the dresser and closet in his parent's bedroom as a very small child. On the wall above the dresser had been a small mirror, with a larger, cracked one hanging on the closet door. He could remember standing there for hours, spinning first one way, then the other, fascinated by how the reflections seemed to go on forever and ever. The coffee was almost done before he managed to figure out what mirrors had to do with toy soldiers, and what either had to do with the situation at hand. "Yer sayin," he slowly said, "that the doc ain't gonna listen ta none o'the Qianfeng, 'cause he knows _me_ an' paints us all wi' the same brush?"

"Unobjectionable deduction of inadequate verbal cues," she said, slipping off the table.

Jayne figured that probably meant 'yeah'. His nose told him the coffee was done, so he turned off the burner and poured a cup. "So… I _know_ he ain't gonna listen ta _me_ 'bout it."

"Then cease communications on the topic before beginning," she advised.

"Not tell 'im?" The idea hadn't crossed Jayne's mind before she suggested it. "Huh… Has merit, I s'pose." He sipped at his drink. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

"Fait accompli," River nodded decisively. "Preferable to sanction he will not give. Sees me as non compos mentis. Will attempt abatement once action taken is known."

"Hold up, li'l bit – I ain't swallowed a dictionary lately." Jayne recognized 'fait accompli', but it took him a moment to recall what it meant. "So, yer not wantin' ta tell 'im 'til it's already done, but yer worried he'll try an' do sommat once he knows."

She smiled at him, though it was somewhat pained. The minds downstairs were flooding her with unwanted thought. "Annulment, cancellation of legal contract," she clarified. "I am _not crazy_."

Jayne snorted, the sound reverberating oddly in his mug. He was simply grateful she hadn't waited until he took a drink – coffee in the sinuses tended to _burn_. "'At's debatable, moonbrain, but I reckon ya still got the right of it. Way I see it, ya might be off yer nut, but ya still know yer own mind. Not even the doc could argue ya ain't got the smarts ta make an informed decision." He laughed outright at the somewhat surprised expression on River's face. "One o'the standard classes, li'l bit. Court proceedin's an' lawyerspeak. Occupational hazard; we all eventually wind up before a judge."

"What about a judge?" Mal asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Nothin'," Jayne replied as the captain headed for the coffee pot. "Jus' s'prised the girl by knowin' what 'compos mentis' means." He finished off the coffee in his mug and waited for the captain to finish with the percolator before refilling it and taking his usual seat at the table. "So, what's fer breakfast, Cap'n?"

宁静

After breakfast, Jayne headed to his bunk. He went through his morning routine and made a mental note to not let it be interrupted again for a good long while. He then waved Henley again. Before his uncle had a chance to say anything, Jayne greeted him with, "Hey, you choulou de biao zi pigu de erzi mian dui luo yan shu!" (9)

Hen rolled his eyes. "An' a good mornin' ta you, too, Jaynie-boy. See yer in a better mood 'an yesterday."

Jayne nodded. "Yep."

"Gonna share or make me guess? 'Cause ya know how I hate guessin' games."

"June fourteenth," Jayne said without preamble.

"Shenme?" (10)

"The girl's eighteenth." Jayne glanced at the date/time in the corner of the screen. "Two days from now."

"Ah," Hen nearly yawned the word. "'Spect yer askin' fer 'prentice privilege, then?"

Jayne nodded. "Makes the most sense. Ain't like anyone's gonna be happy wi' the standard bat'ry. Ev'ryone'd kick up a fuss iffen I was ta suggest we leave 'er on Persephone. Don't plan on makin' much noise on this."

"Y'all got a docubox on that ship o'yourn?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Henley said. "I'll send the 'prentice contract over jus' afore midnight on the thirteenth. What'll 'at be, yer time?"

"Since we hit Persephone more 'an anywhere else, we're on Eavesdown time," Jayne replied. "'Less Wash has a sleepless night, should be fine ta send it then. Iffen it looks like he's gonna be up, I'll wave ya an' letcha know."

"Sounds like a plan. Talk wi' ya later," Henley disconnected.

Suddenly filled with more energy than he knew what to do with, Jayne climbed out of his room and headed down to the cargo bay. Most of the Qianfeng were utilizing the exercise mat they'd brought aboard, engaging in a morning routine bout of tai chi. "Hey, y'all bring any shinai with ya?" he asked, plopping onto one of the folding chairs and divesting himself of his gun belt and shoes. (11)

Hu was seated across the table from him and nodded. "Yes," he said. "We brought along the standard kit. Were you seeking a sparring session, Zhu Cobb?" (12)

Jayne sighed internally. _He ain't never gonna call me by my first name, huh?_ "Yeah, iffen any o'y'all're int'rested."

Hu didn't get up, but projected his voice over the company, knowing they were all shamelessly eavesdropping. "What say you? Any of you wish to spar with Zhu Cobb?" (13)

More than half chorused, "Shi!" (14)

Jayne didn't bother even trying to conceal his glee. "Maybehaps I'll manage a real workout fer a change," he enthused.

* * *

**A/N2:** For following chapters, I don't think I'm going to continue posting the translations for the most-used Chinese (or other languages) words I use. I think by now y'all know that 'zhu' means 'master', 'xiexie' is 'thanks', and so on. I will, however, continue posting translations if it's not something I've used much. Sound good?

* I understand that this sentence makes no sense, '_Me plates was achin' so's I went ta wait fer ya in th'tin tuttle. Got aftershave from Kit while I's there – she'd been wantin' some more Rosie Lee – but it cut off mid-bloody-word. Cain't raise a one now_!' At least, on the surface, it makes no sense. It makes far more sense when one knows that Cockney rhyming slang is heavily (ab)used in it. To translate English to American, here's a quick key: 'Plates' as in 'plates of meat' as in 'feet' (actual slang). 'Tin tuttle' as in 'shuttle' (I made this one up). 'Aftershave' as in 'a wave' (made this one up, too). 'Rosie Lee' as in 'tea' (actual slang). We all on the same page now? Good.

**Quote from Hans Christian Anderson's _The Steadfast Tin Soldier_.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Zhuangbi_, _Laoban_ – 'posers', 'boss', translations by Wikipedia and Google.

2.) _Cao ni zuzong shiba dai_ – 'fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation', translation by Wikipedia.

3.) _Yesu_, _Hundan_, _Taoqi de xiao emo_ – 'Jesus', 'bastard', 'mischievous little devil', translations by Browncoats-dot-com and Google.

4.) _Wuan_ – 'good afternoon', translation by Omniglot-dot-com.

5.) _Hao gongzuo_ – 'good job', translation by Google.

6.) _Shi_, _Laoban_ – 'affirmative', 'boss', translations by Browncoats-dot-com and Google.

7.) _Xiang San Ji _– 'Township Three', translation by Google.

8.) _Ni hai hao ma_ – 'you alright', translation by Google.

9.) _Choulou de biao zi pigu de erzi mian dui luo yan shu_ – 'ugly son of a bitching ass-faced naked mole rat', translation by Google.

10.) _Shenme_ – 'I'm sorry', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

11.) _Shinai_ – bamboo swords engineered for sparring without injury.

12.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

13.) _Zhu_ – 'master', translation by Google.

14.) _Shi_ – 'yes', translation by Google.


	10. A Word, Jayne, If You Please

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **In addition to the undoubtedly butchered Chinese I've been using, this chapter introduces what is certainly equally-butchered Japanese. Again, if any of y'all know better than I do about the translations I want, feel free to correct me!

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Ten: A Word, Jayne, If You Please_

For the third time in an hour, a loud command of nonsense ripped Simon's attention away from the book he was reading in the common area. "Yoi!" was the word, though it meant _nothing_ to the doctor. A heartbeat later, the next bit of gibberish echoed through the lower levels of the ship, "Matte!" Sighing, Simon looked away from his novel and mouthed the next bit of twaddle along with the voice, "Kawate!" He waited and did the same with the final word, "Hajime!" Immediately, there were rapid-fire clattery noises that Simon was thoroughly getting sick of trying to ignore. (1)

Tucking the book up under his arm, Simon got up and strode into the cargo bay. The entire gaggle of mercenaries were ringing their exercise mat. Glancing up, he saw Mal, Zoë, and Kaylee watching from the catwalk. In the center of the milling thugs, Jayne and the mercenary known as Fish were beating on each other with yellowish, leather-capped sticks of some sort. The clattery racket was the noise of these canes striking each other.

Simon wandered up to join the rest of the crew. "What are they _doing_?" he asked, the tone of his question roughly the same as it would have been had he been inquiring about their 'passengers' being discovered roasting and eating horse droppings. The way the pair were fighting, his voice also carried a hint of irritation that their antics would likely mean one or the other – or both – would wind up needing his assistance in the infirmary.

"Jiyu kumite," Kaylee replied, not looking away from the spectacle below. (2)

"Gesundheit?" Simon said. Kaylee tore her eyes away from the rare treat of watching experts in shinai sparring and leveled a look at Simon that uncomfortably reminded him of the expression River favored when he'd just said or done something particularly stupid.

Mal was the one who clarified, and the way he said it was enough to indicate that he'd only just learned the information himself – likely in the same manner that Simon was being educated. "They're sparring," he said. "Using some special type of swords designed not ta do more than bruise."

"Hitosume!" Hu's voice interrupted, and Simon's attention flickered back to the sparring pair. Fish was rubbing his shoulder, and both sparring partners backed away. The rest of the gathered mercenaries twittered amongst themselves, and Simon saw at least three exchanges of money. (3)

Kaylee sidled up next to Simon and explained a little further, "They go until three blows are landed. Jayne just scored first. So far, only the blonde woman's scored on Jayne," she indicated the woman standing on the far side of the mat, whose hair was cut nearly as short as Mal's. "I think Jayne's going to win this match, too."

Hu again said, "Yoi!"

"That actually mean something to you?" Simon asked the mechanic.

She nodded, "It's a mostly-dead language, only ever really used in martial arts these days. Think it's called Nippon." The next call of 'matte' reverberated through the hold. "'Yoi' is like saying 'on your mark'. 'Matte' is pretty much 'get set'." 'Kawate' followed her words. "That one's another 'get set', and 'hajime'," she managed it in concert with Hu, "is basically 'have at it'."

Over the resuming clatter of bamboo smacking against itself, Simon asked, "How do you know this?" Simon was more than just a little puzzled. Neither Simon nor Kaylee noticed, but both Mal and Zoë were paying close attention to the mechanic's explanations.

Kaylee shrugged. "Oh, well, bushido – in all it's variations – is really popular on Whittier. Shinai is somethin' what most of us are taught in school. Think it's 'cause it's _really_ hard ta actually hurt someone with the shinai swords, but even then we don't get ta use a real shinai 'til high school." (4)

Fish yelped as Jayne's shinai made contact with his posterior. "Futatsume!" Hu called. The pair broke away and backed off again. After another count of the previously-incomprehensible words that had been bugging Simon all day, they resumed their sparring. Simon actually watched them more closely this time around. Despite the presence of the bamboo-and-leather 'swords', the way the pair circled one another within the confines of a circle painted on the blue mat put Simon more in mind of dancing than fighting. (5)

_Who would have thought the lumbering gorilla could be graceful?_ Simon thought, then was immediately reminded of the way Jayne had _prowled_ during the fight at Niska's skyplex. "What's bushido?" Simon asked, not quite able to look away from the 'fight', and needing to distract himself that his personal opinion of Jayne having always been an oafish, clumsy lout just _might_ be wrong – at least, in specific circumstances.

"Uh…" Kaylee groped for the words. "Well, it tends ta refer to any of the martial arts, karate an' the like, but from what m'brother tells me, the Guild uses it more like how it was meant originally on Earth-that-Was."

"And how is that?"

"Well, you really oughta ask Jayne for the specifics, but the way Artie tells it, it's the word they use to cover the general code that the Guild runs by. Self-discipline, honor, bravery, that sort of thing."

Simon snorted in disbelief and ripped his eyes away from where Fish was desperately trying to score against Jayne. "Of what possible use are any of those concepts to a man who fights for money and nothing more?" scorn thickly coated his voice.

Kaylee glared at him. "I would think, Mr. Top-Three-Percent, that even _you_ would realize those things're _more_ important for a merc than they are for a fed or soldier!"

"Oh, please! Like a mercenary has any use at all for honor," Simon retorted. "Or for self-discipline! Seems more like they haven't even the _discipline_ to stay out of trouble for more than an hour at a stretch unsupervised."

Knowing that Simon was referring to the last time they'd spent a couple of days dirtside, just before Book had left – Jayne had headed directly for the nearest brothel and had returned the next morning with three busted ribs – Kaylee upped the power of her glare. "You really are a guzhi he mangmu di ruchong!" she spat, and flounced away. (6)

Simon stared after her, feeling like she'd just slapped him. Zoë and Mal exchanged a look, then quietly disappeared up the stairs.

"Mittsume! Match goes to Zhu Cobb," Hu said. (7)

宁静

About an hour after performing his latest Kaylee-induced podiatric-oral insertion, Simon was busying himself in the infirmary; cleaning already spotless instruments and wiping nonexistent dust from the counters. He knew most of the crew didn't really understand why he spent so much time cleaning and organizing a space which was, by its very nature, the cleanest and most-organized portion of the ship, but the action was soothing to Simon, the repetitive motions allowing him time to think. If Wash could peer into Simon's mind as easily as River, the pilot would have been able to explain it as Simon's 'zen-thing'.

"You need a hobby," Tora's voice shattered the peaceful quiet.

"Duibuqi?" he looked over to see the Valkyrie leaning against the doorframe. (8)

"You heard me, doc – you need a hobby," she smiled at him. "You ain't never spent much time in the black before this, have you?"

Simon shrugged. "No, not really. A couple of vacations when I was younger, but that's all."

"Might wanna take up macramé or knitting or something. You keep polishing the counters like this, and you'll wear them away to nothing," Tora teased. "Then where're you gonna put a second patient the next time you need the space?"

Simon tossed his polishing rag into the sink and leaned against the counter. "I suppose you could have a point. In my defense, however, being stuck on this ship was not intentional. We were simply going to use it as a convenient lift to Boros, which shouldn't have taken more than a few days."

"How long ago was that?"

Simon winced. "Months."

"And yet you're still here."

"And yet I'm still here," he nodded. "Had I known, all those months ago, just precisely what fate had in store for my life, I would have ensured to bring along a few of my personal diversions. As it is, just about the only one I have access to at the moment is reading novels downloaded off of the cortex."

"Lemme guess," Tora cocked her head to one side and stared at Simon in a way that frankly made him more than a little uncomfortable. "You follow the Ang Zang de Langman series, don'tcha?" (9)

Simon made a face that clearly expressed his knee-jerk distaste. "No! Actually, I prefer the classics. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein is one of my favorites." He named the book he'd spent the better part of the morning trying to read.

Tora laughed at his expression, then kept up the smile. "Funny – mine, too. My favorite part is, 'His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! – Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same color as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shriveled complexion and straight black lips.'" *

A small smile managed to surface on Simon's face. "That's very close in the story to my own favorite bit. 'A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility.' Fantastic advice, even though I find myself rarely able to follow it." *

"I don't much agree," Tora said. "What's life for, if not indulging our passions?"

"Well, I have to say I'm glad that not everyone shares that perspective," Simon said, his mind showing him an imaginary world where nothing got done, simply because _everyone_ was too busy copulating.

"How so? You can't tell me that stolen kisses aren't the sweetest of them all, or that a slice of chocolate cake doesn't swallow any easier than a ration-pack." She toyed with the tail of her braid. "I wasn't talking about sex," she could see from the corner of her eyes that her guess on what had been running through the doctor's mind was right on the money – he blushed. "Why's it that all Core-bred folks seem to come equipped with filthy minds?" Simon's blush brightened. "I'm not complaining. No, not complaining about it at all, but it seems that the closer you get to the central planets, the dirtier people's thoughts become."

"Tora," Bo Lin poked her head into the infirmary. "Quit torturing the poor boy. Zhu Hu wishes to speak with you."

The redhead glanced down, "What about?"

Bo shrugged. "He didn't say."

Tora sighed. "If you'll excuse me? I'll come back later."

After she left the infirmary, Simon asked, "Why is that a frightening prospect?"

Bo giggled, startling the doctor. He'd forgotten she was there. "Don't let Tora get under your skin, doctor," she said. "She's poking as much fun at herself as she is at you."

"Didn't seem that way."

"Does it make more sense if you know she grew up on Sihnon?" Bo named the most central of all the Core planets.

Simon allowed himself a small smirk. "Ah, yes, it does." _If she was including herself in that last jibe, then it would stand to her logic that she has a filthier mind than anyone else aboard._ He made a gesture to one of the small stools tucked under the counter on the far side of the room. "You needn't lurk in the door. Feel free to come in and sit – I promise I don't bite."

Bo chuckled, "How do you know I don't?"

"I suppose I don't," Simon replied as she crossed over to the offered seating. "But I'm willing to trust you." He didn't figure the woman – who stood at a maximum height of four feet, nine inches and probably weighed eighty pounds sopping wet – could possibly be much of a threat, even if she were angry.

She perched on the stool, putting Simon in mind of a mechanical bird his mother had in her bedroom. "You don't have to hide in here, you know," she said, gesturing to the infirmary at large. "We're just people, you know. And I'm sure you wouldn't be hiding if we were simple passengers, farmers or such."

"I haven't been hiding," Simon argued.

"Haven't you?" Bo leveled a look at him that seemed to pierce straight through him.

Simon sighed. "Okay, I'll admit that I'm somewhat… uncomfortable with you all on the ship. But that doesn't mean I've been hiding."

Bo ignored the remark about hiding. "Would you be this uncomfortable if we were Alliance feds?" Simon paled drastically, nearly managing to match the white of his shirt. Bo frowned. "My apologies. I didn't mean to bring up anything unfortunate. I retract the question and replace it with this one: Would you be this uncomfortable if we were simple soldiers and not mercenaries?"

Once he managed to get himself back in control, Simon thought about it. "I… Hmm. I don't think so."

"Do you realize you would have more call to be fretting if we _were_ soldiers?"

Simon's forehead wrinkled. "I don't understand."

"Let me see if I can elucidate. Do you know what 'collateral damage' means?"

The doctor nodded. "It's when a government action has unintended side-effects to people or property not meant to be part of the target."

"Two gold stars," Bo agreed. "Now, when armies fight one another, collateral damage is a given. During the Unification War, the most striking example of collateral damage was what happened to Shadow. Nearly fifty million people, and that the conservative estimate, wiped out during what was supposed to be a strike-and-run of the Alliance army against the Independents stationed outside Carlsbad Canyon." Simon was following the explaining well enough, but couldn't quite tie it back to why he should be more uneasy around soldiers than mercenaries. Something of his confusion must have shown on his face because Bo addressed it in relatively short order. "Soldiers in general aren't trained much on how to avoid the inevitable collateral damage that happens during wartime. Mostly, what little training they're given amounts to being told to not shoot bystanders if at all possible, but few actually retain this lesson."

"I was under the impression that the officers were given special training in that area," Simon replied, his mind dredging up half-forgotten bits of information gleaned from a officer-friend of his grandfather.

Bo nodded. "They are, but few minds among the command structure of any military are equipped to understand that if a missile misses its target and lands on a map-dot a half-mile away, it isn't just a name crossed off that map, but homes and families and businesses which are destroyed." She pointed at him, "You, and the other members of your crew, are bystanders. Innocents, if you will, in this little game of chess wherein I and my fellows have been hired in lieu of playing pieces."

"Pardon me, but I fail to see your point."

"Everyone in Blacks, everyone trained by the Guild, has been given extensive training in how to avoid collateral damage. We don't harm anything but what we are hired to attack." Her face melted into a rather wry smile. "There's no sense in destroying potential future customers, after all," she said with a little laugh.

"Okay, I suppose I understand that," Simon replied, "but I'm still not seeing what you meant when you said I'd have more cause for concern if you were soldiers."

"Hmm… You're one who likes everything spelled out for you, aren't you?" Simon didn't bother answering the question, as it was obviously rhetorical on Bo's part. "Look at it like this, doctor: If the fight you are taking us to were between armies and not corporations, wouldn't it make the most strategic sense to eliminate the threat I and the rest of the Qianfeng pose by attacking the ship itself? Either out here in the void between worlds, or as the ship entered the atmosphere on Ita, but long before we have the chance to attack first."

Simon thought about it and was forced to agree with the tiny woman's point. "Okay, I see what you are trying to say, but, forgive my ignorance on the subject, how do we know that won't happen anyway?"

"Because," she said, "this time, both sides have hired Guildsmen to do their dirty work. When situations like this arise, it is written into the contracts with our employers that we are not going to attack each other directly, and that all targets must be confirmed as belonging to, in this case, either Kepler, Inc. or Blue Sun. We will not attack any target that is owned by a third party. For example, we will gladly sabotage a sawmill or assassinate a corporate executive, but we will not attack the public docks in Camp Verde nor will we bomb the family home of the aforementioned executive."

"Hmm…" _I guess Kaylee was right. You could probably knock me over with a feather right now, but… It actually makes a bit more sense now._

Bo hopped off her stool and quietly left, knowing that the doctor had just been given quite a lot of food for thought.

Simon barely noticed his guest leaving. He was too wrapped up in trying to comprehend, not simply what he'd been told, but what those statements of fact implied about Guild mercenaries. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, thinking, with a fluttery thought dancing constantly just out of reach when he saw Jayne through the windows. The man was heading up to the galley.

The thought which had been eluding him suddenly burst into full bloom at the forefront of his brain. Making a snap decision, Simon hurried to the door and stood at the foot of the stairs. "Jayne?" he called after the man.

Jayne paused halfway up the flight. "Yeah?"

"A word, Jayne, if you please," Simon beckoned to him.

"Just one? How 'bout this one: Hungry. That a good 'nough word fer ya?" Jayne smirked at the doctor, then laughed outright at his frustrated scowl. "Alright, alright," the mercenary started back down the stairs. "Don't get yer panties in a knot, doc." On reaching Simon, he asked, "Whacha need?"

Simon involuntarily took a step back as the stench of sweat assaulted his nostrils. "You reek, you know that?"

Jayne gave a nonchalant shrug. "I been sparrin' all day – what's yer excuse?"

The argument, if it could rightfully be called that, regarding Simon's choice of aftershave was as strong as ever. Simon ignored the snark and pressed on with his hastily-made decision. He rubbed lightly at his forehead for a moment, then asked, "Just what is your standing with the Mercenary Guild, Jayne?"

A hundred different replies flashed through Jayne's mind, everything from 'why ya wanna know' to 'usually, I'm standin' inside it, not wi' it'. After a long heartbeat, he went with his first instinct, "Why ya wanna know, doc?"

"Call it curiosity," Simon replied.

Jayne's forehead creased some as he attempted to ferret out the meaning behind Simon's claim. _Body language's all wrong iffen he's tryin' ta bluff. Boy can't bluff ta save his life._ "Currently, I'm a solo contractor," Jayne replied.

"Not exactly what I was looking for," Simon admitted.

"'S what ya asked. On the Balanced Sun Hall roster, 's what ya'd find next ta my name – 'solo contract'." Jayne crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the stair rail. He was tempted to grin at Simon's goldfish impersonation, but was in a good enough mood from all the exercise not to bother. He took pity on the kid instead. "I'm guessin' ya wanna know more 'an that, yeah?" Simon nodded. "Well, I been with the Guild most o'my life. Ev'ryone's 'xpectin' me ta take over the runnin' o'the Hall on Persephone when the current hanshisei retires." (10)

"I've never had any contact with the Guild," Simon said, hoping his next question would be better phrased. "So, excuse my prying, but why would _you_ be expected to take over the Hall?"

Jayne shifted a little, his right foot coming in front of his left leg and crossing at the ankle. "Maybehaps 'cause I been in m'Blacks since I was ten. Earned Gold Bands at eighteen. Lead a comp'ny fer a few years, 'til I was twenty-five. I brokered more 'an a few deals on b'half o'the Guild, most afore I come ta work on Serenity, though there been a couple even while I been here. I got thirty years tied up wi' Balanced Sun. Only one what's got more time in 'an me there is m'uncle Henley, who's runnin' the place currently."

Simon felt that someone had plucked him from the 'verse he knew and dropped him into some strange alternate reality where unicorns were real and gravity worked in reverse. "I'm sorry," he began, but Jayne interrupted.

"Gorram it, Simon! Jus' say what's on yer mind, will ya? Strip them useless manners o'yourn an' come _out _with it already! I'm hungry, an' yer holdin' up m'supper!"

"Very well," Simon's words became very clipped and over-enunciated. "I find it difficult to believe that any respectable business would place _you_ in any sort of responsible position."

Jayne snorted. "Now 'at weren't so hard, were it?" He shifted again, so he was once more resting lightly on both feet. "How's about I ask ya a few o'my own questions. Ya know how ta keep a thousand folk warm an' fed? What ta do iffen some dumbass greenie manages ta kill hisself out on the practice range? How 'bout how ta handle some ru xiu wei gan xinshou what went out an' made a fool o'hisself? When ta back away from a deal? How ta tell some hundan that his offer ain't 'nough fer the job he wants done? Iffen ya know how ta do _any_ o'that, then ya got the right ta question how the Guild does things. 'Til then, keep yer lips zipped, or I'll zip 'em m'own self." With that, Jayne stalked up the stairs, his good mood shattered beyond recognition. (11)

The implication that Jayne could, indeed, do any of the activities he mentioned was enough to make Simon's head spin. He slumped onto the sofa in the common area. "No, I was wrong before – _this_ is what going mad feels like."

* * *

**A/N2:** Frankenstein is my all-time-favorite piece of classical literature. I very highly recommend it if you've not read it before. It's particularly impressive when you take into account that Mary Shelly was only seventeen when she wrote it.

I'm not as comfortable climbing into Simon's head as I am with some of the other characters. He kinda comes across as an asshole in this chapter, doesn't he? Is this too far outside the realm of possibility, or is that just my imagination?

* Quotes from Mary Shelly's Frankenstein.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Yoi_, _Matte_, _Kawate_, _Hajime_ – 'ready', 'wait', 'on guard', 'begin', translations by Karate-kobudo-dot-co-dot-NZ.

2.) _Jiyu kumite_ – 'freestyle sparring', translation by Karate-kobudo-dot-co-dot-NZ.

3.) _Hitosume_ – 'first', translation by Nihongoichiban-dot-com.

4.) _Bushido_ – 'way of the warrior', translation by Karate-kobudo-dot-co-dot-NZ.

5.) _Futatsume_ – 'second', translation by Nihongoichiban-dot-com.

6.) _Guzhi he mangmu di ruchong _– 'obstinate and blind worm', translation by Google.

7.) _Mittsume_ – 'third', translation by Nihongoichiban-dot-com.

8.) _Duibuqi_ – 'excuse me', translation by Google.

9.) _Ang Zang de Langman_ – 'sleazy romance', translation by Google.

10.) _Hanshisei _– the person in charge of a martial arts training house.

11.) _Ru xiu wei gan xinshou_ – 'wet behind the ears newbie', translation by Google and Wikipedia.


	11. A Friendly Little Game

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **The 'official' info I managed to dig up about the particulars of Tall Card indicate that two of the six suits are peaches and apricots. I would imagine this makes telling the two suits apart rather difficult, because the two fruit (particularly images of them) aren't all that different. Ergo, I have taken the liberty of changing apricots to cherries, just so y'all know, of course.

This isn't a particularly long chapter, but it still says a lot.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Eleven: A Friendly Little Game_

The game started just after dinner, and was still going strong as midnight came and went. "Yer deal," Jayne passed the deck off to Wash.

"Gonna hafta take five, first – need to enter tonight's course corrections," the pilot sat the deck down and got to his feet. On standing, he yawned. "Or maybe it's time to pack it in for the night."

"I'll deal," Kaylee said, taking the deck. "You should finish your piloty things an' go ta bed."

"Yeah, mate," Paul Robak interjected. "Ya look 'bout done in. An' if I had me a bed-warmer in the shape o'yourn, I wouldn't be lookin' ta spend no more time 'an absolutely necessary outside that bed!"

Wash chuckled in agreement. "Just don't let Zoë hear you talking about her like that – she just might take offense, and I'm not too ashamed to admit that if she wanted to throw you out the airlock for it, I certainly couldn't stop her." He put the chips they were using in lieu of the traditional shipboard chores back into the case, then headed for the bridge.

Kaylee shuffled the deck and handed it off to Greg. Greg Robak cut the deck and handed it back to her. "How's… John? That's your other brother, right?" she asked.

"Passin' fair," Greg replied. "Coulda tol' him not ta go up 'gainst Jayne here, but our bitty bro never was one fer lettin' othern tell him what's what."

"Yeah, always gotta see fer himself," Paul added, shuffling the tall cards.

"Ain't that just the way of younger sibs, though?" Kaylee smiled. "Ante up, gentlemen!"

Everyone tossed a white chip into the pot, and Kaylee dealt everyone five cards. Paul opened with two more white chips. Jayne shifted his cards around and matched the bet, "Call," he said. Greg matched it as well.

Kaylee threw in a pair of chips. "Okay, what'll everyone have?"

"Two, please," Paul said, handing her his discards. Jayne took one. Greg looked agonized for a moment, then traded three of his hand for new cards.

"And dealer takes one," Kaylee switched her six of cherries for the Dragon of plums. "And…" she sat the regular deck down, then flipped the top card off the round stack with a little flourish, "oranges are Tall."

"Oranges are always Tall," River's voice drifted into the galley from a point just beyond the door.

"Hey! No comments from the peanut gallery!" Jayne hollered back.

Paul ignored the byplay and frowned at his hand. "Pass," he said, chewing on his lower lip.

Jayne rolled his eyes. "You ever place a bet ya don't gotta?" he asked, tossing a red chip into the pot.

"Not if I can help it," Paul replied.

Greg smirked and met Jayne's bet, "I see yer five, an' raise ya another five." Another red chip landed on the small pile with a plasticy clatter.

"Call," Kaylee tossed in the right amount, and all eyes landed on Paul. "Bet or fold, buddy."

"Fold," Paul laid his cards face-down on the table. "Ain't got no luck tonight."

Jayne looked at the pot, then at his hand. "Ah, hell. Call," he topped off the pot.

Greg matched it. "Okay, call all around. Let's see 'em."

"Kaylee's got two pair," River said, drifting into the room. Since she entered from the hatchway behind the mechanic, the Robaks simply assumed she spotted the cards over her shoulder.

Jayne glared at River while Kaylee nodded and laid her hand down. "Fives and sevens," she said. "How 'bout you?"

River opened her mouth, but Jayne laid his cards down fast enough she didn't get the chance to say anything. "Full house, sixes an' Dragons."

Greg scowled. "Damn it. An' here I thought I was doin' well." His hand was all bananas.

Jayne collected the pot with a smile. Granted, they weren't really playing for any reason other than to pass the time, but he always had enjoyed winning.

"You gonna join us, girlie?" Paul asked, collecting the cards for his turn to deal.

River shook her head. "Unfair."

"Ah, come on – we'll take it easy on ya iffen ya ain't played afore," Greg pressed the issue.

"Not fair to _you_," River replied, wandering up to the table. She picked up the round talls and flipped through them. "You shout it all, and tire my head, and…" She froze mid-word.

"River?" Kaylee looked up at her friend. She was standing still as a statue, staring at the top tall card. The mechanic reached up and laid a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "River, honey, you okay?"

"Two by two," she whispered.

"Gorram it! Not that zaogao again!" Jayne abandoned the game and strode over to River. (1)

"Hands of blue, two by two," River kept repeating it, not moving anything more than her lips.

宁静

A wave bounced its way through innumerable middle-men. It took long enough that the caller was about to disconnect before he was finally landed with someone who might actually take his call. A guy who was lost in that ageless quality some folks had between thirty-five and sixty answered with a rather stern face, "You have information for me?"

The kid – he was barely twenty-two – on the other side of the screen smiled brightly. "If y'all're still lookin' for a Firefly named Serenity, I just might. I happened on this earlier today during my lunch break," he hit a button and the warrants for Simon and River Tam popped up on the screen; the most recent additions to them stated _last known whereabouts: Firefly-class transport ship 'Serenity', captained by Malcolm Reynolds_. Another button hit and the images disappeared revealing the youth. "I work for the Port Authority here on Persephone. Reynold's ship was here not even two days ago."

"You are certain it was Serenity?"

The kid nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. Ain't many o'them Fireflies what land regularly in Eavesdown, and of them what do, only Serenity ever takes on passengers."

"They took on passengers?" the stern-faced man asked, and the kid on the other side of the screen swallowed hard.

"Yeah. Bunch of 'em, but I dunno why. Usually, they're here to repair and fuel."

"When did they depart and did they file their destination with Port Authority?"

The kid checked something on a capture film, then wrinkled his forehead. "They set out about forty hours ago, headed for Ita. If y'all's got a fast enough ship, you might could catch 'em."

"Do you know if the people we seek, the girl in particular, are still aboard?"

"Uh, sorry, but I dunno if they're still on board or not. If they are, they ain't on Reynold's manifest as either passengers or crew."

"Have you a copy of his manifest?"

The kid shook his head, "Nuh-huh! Ain't worth m'job to get caught with stuff that's s'posed to stay in the office!"

The man smiled, and it was not a comforting expression. "Thank you for your assistance," he said, reaching for the disconnect button.

"Hey! What about the rewar–" the screen went dark.

宁静

"River," Kaylee pleaded with the girl, repeating her name several times. River either couldn't hear her or wouldn't respond, she kept on with the rhyme instead. Jayne pried the cards out of the girl's hands, badly bending the top one – the plum – and tossed them on the table. "Come on, River, _please_!" Kaylee looked up at Jayne. "Should I go get Simon?" she stood. "I'm gonna go get Simon."

"Wait a sec," Jayne said, heading to the sink. He filled a tin cup with some cold water – which was very cold indeed, kept barely above freezing – and carried it over to where River was still doing her statue impersonation, with hands holding cards that were no longer there.

"Whacha gonna do –" Kaylee started to ask, then stopped as Jayne tossed the icy water in River's face.

River stopped speaking, coughed once, and relaxed. "Oranges are always Tall," she said once more, then dashed out of the room.

"Huh," Jayne commented, looking from the empty cup to the direction in which River had fled and back. "Iffen I'da knowed that woulda shocked her outta crazytown like that, I woulda started doin' it months ago." He tossed the cup into the sink, where it landed with a noisy rattle, then sat back down. "We gonna play or not?" he asked when three pairs of eyes landed on him.

The Robaks exchanged a look and simultaneously shook their heads. "Naw," Paul said. "Think it's time ta turn in."

As they got up from the table, Jayne looked at Kaylee, who was still standing behind her chair. "How 'bout it, Kaylee-girl? Ya tired, too?"

Kaylee shook her head, then nodded, then shrugged. "I wasn't, but now…" she slumped back into her chair and began collecting the poker chips. "How'd ya know that'd work?"

Jayne shrugged and shoved the rest of the chips on the table closer to her while he set about collecting the cards. "Didn't. Just figured iffen she was stuck in 'er own head, it couldn't hurt none."

"It was a good idea," Kaylee said, settling the chips into their case.

"It was either that or slappin' her, an' I ain't never held wi' slappin' girlfolk 'thout a damn good reason," Jayne stacked the cards and handed them over, then picked up the badly bent plum tall and tried to fold it back into shape. "Think this'un's a loss. Gonna hafta pick up a new tall deck, else plums're always gonna be too easy ta pick as Tall."

宁静

Agent 17A checked a Whirlwind out of the motor pool, while 17B gathered their field kit. Meeting at the door to the transport, they entered and lifted off, leaving word with their superiors on their latest acquisition of a possible target for River Tam. She was the priority. Her brother was slated for neutralization; having infiltrated and retrieved his sister in the manner he'd used, he couldn't be allowed to live. As it was, it would take several years to track down all his acquaintances to make sure the information on how he'd done it hadn't been spread.

They were only an hour out when they received updated orders from their higher-ups. _Simon Tam – status unchanged. River Tam – capture if possible, neutralize if necessary, retrieval of intact cranium paramount. All other standing orders remain unchanged._

"Good," 17B said. "No witnesses makes retrieval easier."

"Yes," 17A replied. He patted the pocket where the neutralizer was kept. "It certainly does."

A small computer screen flashed a red-lettered display in Chinese characters. If translated to English, it would have read _Time to Intercept: 23h 19m_.

宁静

After saying 'goodnight' to Kaylee, Jayne headed for his own bunk. His exercise from earlier was starting to settle in his bones and sleep sounded like a pretty good idea. He pushed the hatch open and slid down the ladder.

"I was beginning to wonder if you planned on sleeping at all tonight," a female voice greeted him.

He looked around the ladder to find Lisette Sawyer, the Qianfeng's communications expert, lounging on his bed in nothing more than her panties. He grinned at her. "Well, I _was_ tired…"

"But no longer?" she smirked.

"Hafta say 'at's a big no on that one."

"You fight like mogui de niren hua. Makes a girl wonder how you do at other physical pursuits." (2)

"'Tain't no need fer wonderin', I'm thinkin'," Jayne replied, pulling off his t-shirt. "Not when all ya need do is ask."

"Consider this my question, then," she gestured to her nearly naked self.

Jayne chuckled.

宁静

The icy water may have snapped her out of the daze she'd been in, but it did nothing to derail her mind's eye from the innumerable permutations of seeing what might come to pass.

_Getting boarded. Sonic weapon kills everyone. Her head is removed and taken back to the laboratories._

She almost wished that more people were awake. When this happened, just about the only way to fix it was to drown the images in the thoughts/emotions/colors/sensations of other people who _weren't_ trapped in probabilities.

_A blast tears off the starboard engine, ripping the hull where the wing connects to the body of the ship. Explosive decompression takes moments. Everyone dies. Her head is retrieved and taken back to the labs._

Had she been fully capable of here-now thinking, she would have attempted hiding in Jayne's mind. But if she were fully capable of here-now, then she wouldn't be stuck in the might-be-thens.

_The ship is bombarded by an EMP. They wait. Everyone dies. They take her frozen skull back to the Academy._

But then again, even hiding in someone else's mind might not be enough to stop the deluge of probabilities. It was entirely possible that her own damaged brain was actually _shielding_ her from being completely lost to the might-bes.

_Getting boarded._ _The Qianfeng don't take kindly to being woken in the middle of the night and kill the intruders, but not before the sonic weapon is engaged. Everyone dies. Her head remains floating in a disabled ship until some desperate scavenger decides to scrap Serenity._

She liked that possibility. Everyone still died, but in that one, the 'everyone' included _them_. Not to mention, her head stayed right where she wanted it kept.

_The ship is hit by an EMP. When hypoxia and hypothermia have everyone on the verge of death, they pipe in sedative fog and restore life-support. They take her back to the chair and needles and fragmentary memories she doesn't want._

She shivered. Sure, everyone lived, but she went _back_. She didn't ever want to go back. Even if she were promised that she'd never again be bound to that chair, that she could walk in with a bomb and level the place, she wouldn't take it.

_They play disabled, send out a distress beacon. Mal insists on investigating. He and Zoë are killed as they board the other ship. Jayne realizes something is wrong and sends a grenade through the airlock. They blow up._

Only if necessary. She liked the captain. She liked Zoë. They were Good People. They didn't deserve death at the hands of _them_.

_A blast rips into the main fusion engine. It triggers a cascade failure of the containment system. Everyone within three million miles dies in a miniature supernova._

A quick, easy death. Stardust, floating in space after. No more worry for needles, for memories that don't belong to her. The probability was tempting, but she rejected it for the same reason she's rejected the rest thus far – everyone she cares about dies.

_They are boarded –_

A sudden surge of primal emotion shocked her mind the same way the icy water had shocked her body. The probabilities dissolved in the combined emotional/mental _lust_ seeping from Jayne's direction.

River smiled softly, wondering if he accepted the blonde's invitation on purpose, to derail her mind, or if it was just a happy accident.

With everyone else aboard asleep or nearly so, her thinking was about as clear as possible. She climbed out of the ventilation duct and headed to her room.

She settled on her bed and started the rhythmic breathing Jayne taught her.

Moments later, she found herself inside his mental dojo. She was surprised to find that the only indicator of his real-world activities inside the room was a faintly red light streaming through the rice-paper paneling.

"It is purely physical," she realized, speaking out of habit. It didn't surprise her as much as she would have assumed, had she actually mused on Jayne's sex-life before. "His walls block everything from getting in, except for that which he carries himself into this space. And now, what _I _carry into this space."

She had to stretch out on the floor as even sitting seemed dizzying at her realization of the amount of trust Jayne had given her. "He trusts me not to bring anything in with me that he can't handle. That I can't handle."

She resolved to actually _earn_ that trust in the future.

* * *

**A/N2:** As you might have already guessed, though I plan to take this in a Rayne-direction, they aren't going to get very far, very fast, not this early in the tale. I hope y'all are settled in – it's promising to be one heck of a long story (and far, far more complicated than I had envisioned at first). I now possess nearly thirty pages of notes. You can thank the fact that I was at the plasma place longer than usual this morning for that - they were extraordinarily busy for a Thursday.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Zaogao_ – 'crap', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

2.) _Mogui de niren hua_ – 'the devil personified', translation by Google.


	12. Humped

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **Had a guest reviewer indicate they weren't too sure when the poker game in the last chapter took place, so I'm answering here: The poker game with Wash, Kaylee, Jayne, and Paul and Greg Robak took place the same evening as Jayne's conversation with Simon in chapter 10, though the game finished after midnight (very early the next morning). If I wind up jumping significant portions of time, I'll let y'all know. Everyone back on the same page? Good!

It was never made clear in the series/movie whether or not the Academy targeted children with psychic potential or if they were simply after genii who had a physical element to their genius. Since it _is_ canon that regular folk don't believe in psychics, I'm running with the idea that the Academy simply wanted highly intelligent children who didn't spend the whole of their time tucked away with books.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Twelve: Humped_

It was normally a twenty minute shuttle ride from Xiang San Ji to the cabin the Hong Long had commandeered for their home base. Molly flew the shuttle at nearly suicidal speeds and managed to cut that time just about in half, while Bill and Matt sat with uncommon stillness and worried, and Jayne kept trying to raise _anyone_ at the cabin on the short-range. "Laoban?" Molly's voice interrupted what felt like the millionth attempt. Jayne twisted in his chair, turning away from the wave, and was about to ask Molly what she gorram needed when the sight outside the shuttle's windows halted any idea of communication. (1)

A thick trail of smoke, twining oily black and wispy white, drifted up out of the dense forest.

宁静

Lisette woke as Jayne's arms tightened around her. _Never would've pegged him for a snuggler, but I suppose everyone's got their secrets._ Slowly, carefully, she twisted around and faced the older man. His service record was, like for any Guildsman, freely available to anyone within the Guild who wanted to bother reading it, so she knew that part of his legend was true enough. But the whispers and rumors that trickled through the women – and the few men with such leanings – of the Guild… She snuggled in a little closer and traced meaningless patterns in his chest hair. _Well, it's nice to see that some rumors _don't_ wind up blown all out of proportion._

"Meiyou," the big guy mumbled, pulling her even more tightly against him. (2)

Lisette frowned and looked at his face. The night running lights were just enough to make out the details. _I wonder what he's dreaming about?_ Some of the details she'd read in his record flitted through her mind. _Any one of a dozen contracts he'd finished would be more than enough to give anybody nightmares, to say nothing of what he might have done since joining this ship._ And she wasn't naïve enough to think that _everything_ he might have done was contained in the official records.

She didn't mind the nightmare. Nor did she mind the way he seemed to cling to her in his sleep. Lisette might not have his decades of experience, but she wasn't fresh into her Blacks, either. "Let's see what I can do about bad dreams, shall we?" she whispered to herself, then latched her mouth onto one of his nipples.

Jayne's eyes snapped open, dark memories momentarily forgotten. He focused on the dimly-lit blonde head. "Mmm, shi," he groaned. (3)

宁静

The faintly red tinge to the paneling in the dojo faded after a while, but River hadn't any idea how long it actually might have been in the real world. Before she had a chance to try to gain Jayne's attention, the room was plunged into a bluish glow reminiscent of a moonlit night. "I suppose that indicates he's sleeping," River mused, only slightly frustrated at not getting the chance to speak with him. "Hmm…"

She paced the length of the room while thinking. _I wonder if it is possible for me to sleep here and not suffer the nightmares. Not that they're simple nightmares, not by any stretching of the definition. They have all the hallmarks of flashbacks, save that I only seem to suffer them while asleep._ She paused, considering that last thought. _Well, insofar as I am aware, I have them only while sleeping. Yet, how would I know that for a fact? I can't trust anything my senses tell me while I'm in my own mind. There's too much noise. Too many other people. I was just beginning to get used to the crew, was getting better, or so Simon claims, and then new minds crowded aboard and knocked me around again._

The faint light within the dojo blinked out. "Now what?" She could still feel the floor under her feet, illusory though they both might be. A very faint sound, like that of people talking three rooms away, rumbled around her while the air grew thick and heavy. River felt her way along, reaching the wall in just a couple of steps, then used it to direct her towards the sliding door Jayne had put in for her sake. She nudged the door open, and suddenly found herself in an older-model shuttle, standing directly behind a twenty-five year old version of the mercenary as he stared in disbelief out the windows at a plume of smoke rising out of a thick patch of forest.

"Eek," she stepped back. "Mustn't pry." Back in the inky blackness of the dojo, she felt for the door and closed it. "Promised." As the door clicked against its frame, the room was once again flooded with light that rapidly acquired a reddish tinge.

"Haose hump," River grumbled, then plopped on the floor. "I know you know I'm here, Jayne Cobb. I saw something everyone ought be made aware of, so you quit it with that blonde woman and come talk to me!" (4)

There was no indication she'd been heard. River sighed, then stretched out on the floor and decided to try and see if sleeping inside Jayne's head was possible.

宁静

It was Zoë's day to make breakfast, so she dragged herself out of bed when Wash got up to check that the autopilot hadn't gone nutty overnight and rerouted them to Whitefall or Beylix or some such. She got the coffee brewing first, then looked over the few remaining fresh foods Kaylee had managed to score while they'd been on Persephone. She was tempted to make pancakes again, but decided not to – she was hoping Kaylee might make cake if they left her enough flour. Instead, she assembled some egg-colored protein and the last of the cheese for omelet-substitute.

The first faux-let was slid onto a warming pan as she heard a hatch open in the crew corridor, followed by unfamiliar giggling, then by Jayne's voice saying, "Go on, git," followed by the unmistakable sound of a friendly slap to the rump.

"Aw… Can it be that the _legendary_ Zhu Cobb is actually _afraid_ of something after all? Maybe getting caught with li'l ol' me?"

Jayne let out a snort. "Not hardly," his baritone rumble replied. "Jus' don't see the point in gettin' the cap'n all worked up over friendly exercise. Man's got a stick up his pigu when it comes ta sexin'." (5)

"That just means he ain't getting enough of his own," the female voice replied, her tone teasing. "I could help – that captain of yours is a pretty yingjun de nanxing de routi de lizi. He like blondes, do you think?" (6)

Jayne let out a disgusted little groan. "Ah, hell, Lisette, I don't know. He spent a powerful long time pinin' fer this brunette a while back, so I'd guess not. 'Sides, I don't reckon he'd be all that 'ppreciative if ya go tryin' ta force it."

Lisette let out another quiet giggle. "Comes over all wanting, but too noble to succumb, huh?"

"Can we _not_ talk 'bout Cap'n Mal's sex-life?" Zoë'd been unaware that Jayne could whine about anything remotely connected to sex, though she was more surprised at actually _agreeing_ with what he said.

She slid another faux-let on the warming plate and nearly didn't hear the woman's reply. "Well, there ain't but you and him that're available right now."

"Not so," Jayne argued. Apparently giving up on getting the woman to leave on her own, Zoë heard him take a couple of steps towards the galley. "The doc's single, an' so're most of yer companymen."

Lighter footsteps followed Jayne's heavier tread. "True, but it's plain as the nose on your face that the mechanic girl has a torch for the doc – I don't poach on another woman's claim, even when it's obvious they ain't done nothing about it yet – and I prefer not to sleep around in-house. Folks get too serious, too quicklike when that happens."

"There's always whores," Jayne said, pausing just outside the galley door.

The girl let out a 'tsk' noise. "Hah! This 'verse has a marked lack of clean boy-whores what'll service women, unless you got enough cash to hire a companion, and even then I ain't heard of many men companions who'll take on a merc for a client, despite how much coin we might have rattling in our pockets."

Since they were now close enough to watch, Zoë did so. Luckily, both of them were dressed; the woman in the Qiangfeng uniform and Jayne in a pair of pajama bottoms and a sleeveless t-shirt.

"Well, I dunno 'bout that," Jayne did a weird little side-step that had the blonde woman unthinkingly stepping down into the galley. "But I'm still sure ya shouldn't be goin' an' buggin' the cap'n none, too."

The blonde stuck her tongue out at him. "Spoilsport."

"Iffen I hafta, I'll make it an order, Silverman Sawyer." Jayne crossed his arms over his chest. "Do I hafta?"

Lisette rolled her eyes. "Nah," she said. "I'll be good. But don't be too surprised if I come back for another round with you."

Jayne grinned. "Won't hear _me_ arguin' none, promise."

"Yes," Zoë's dry voice interrupted the pair, "the day Jayne turns down free sex is the day I start checking newswaves for the other signs of the apocalypse."

The blonde startled and whirled around. She didn't blush, though, and that disappointed Zoë somewhat. Jayne just chuckled. "Ya might be right, Zoë," he said, then turned and strode back to his bunk.

"Can't say there's much accounting for taste," Zoë commented, moving another faux-let off the griddle.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Lisette asked.

Zoë shrugged. "May have been. More like to have been simple observation, though."

"So you ain't never…?"

Mal's second twitched an eyebrow. "Never even considered it, to tell the truth. In all honesty, I don't really see the appeal."

Lisette shrugged, then wandered over to the percolator. "Mind?" she asked, tapping it with a fingernail.

"Help yourself."

"Xiexie." The blonde poured herself a cup of the caffeine and sighed happily. "Don't expect you to understand, what with you being married and all, but…" she smiled into her mug.

"Try me," Zoë countered. "You might be surprised."

Lisette looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes. "Hmm… Might do, at that. You were a soldier, once upon a time, weren't you?"

Zoë nodded and assembled the last faux-let. "I was. Independents."

"Then you surely know the unspoken rule about dangerous living."

"There're a lot of those. Which one you thinking on?"

Lisette sipped her coffee before replying, "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. It's sort of the unofficial Guild motto."

_And that explains Jayne Cobb in a nutshell._ She flipped the omelet and was suddenly reminded of what Wash had told her. _Or is it that attitude which shaped him? Wash said he was raised in the Guild._ Lisette finished her coffee, then rinsed out the cup in the sink. _I think this is one of those chicken-egg scenarios, though I have to wonder how he would have turned out had he been raised in a different environment._

宁静

With Lisette finally removed from his space – not that he'd minded having her there – Jayne settled himself on the surface of his badly-mussed bed and addressed the pressure behind his eyes that indicated a slim, brunette stowaway. It never took very long to find his way into his mental space when he was relaxed and feeling mellow, and this morning it was even easier than normal, what with the day before having been filled with strenuous physical exertion and his night peppered with even more activity.

He opened his eyes inside his dojo and saw River stretched out, catlike, on the floor. "Li'l bit?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I was attempting to see if sleep here was possible."

"And?"

"It's not; though I can achieve a state very similar to sleep, I remain conscious. It is a rather peculiar experience, but not altogether unpleasant." She stretched, again putting Jayne in mind of an exceptionally large housecat, and sat up. "I do have information, however."

Jayne shifted out of his normal kneeling position and stretched his legs out in front of him. "What 'bout?"

"_Them_," she replied. "The ones I cannot speak plainly of even when in my most clear-thinking moments."

"Yer 'two by two' folk, huh?"

She nodded. "Saw a probability. Saw _many _probabilities. The two commonalities amongst all permutations of the equation, though, are that they're coming and want _me_. Sometime very soon, before we reach Ita."

The memory of screaming echoing through a heavy door and down a cement-and-steel corridor made gooseflesh break out on Jayne's skin. Had anyone been in his bunk to see it, they would have seen this same reaction on his physical body. "Ni tama de tianxia suoyou de ren dou gaisi!" the oath was barely audible, and River felt its rumble more than heard it. "How humped are we?" he asked. (7)

She shook her head. "Too many probabilities to sort through as yet. Too many unknown variables."

"Ya said that they're gonna be here soon, d'ya know _how_ soon?" Jayne found that he'd somehow wound up standing. River's neck craned backwards at an angle that, were this place more than simple mental imaginings, would have been highly uncomfortable. He flowed back into a kneeling position.

River waited until he was settled before replying. "I am uncertain. My best guess would be sometime within the next two days."

Jayne ran a hand through his hair, pushing aside those remembered screams from Ariel. "Not a whole lotta time," he said, more to himself than to her. "What else d'ya know? Weapons, armor, tactics? I hate flyin' blind on shit like this. Anything 'tall'd be a kindness."

"They are what I was meant to be," River replied, hugging her knees to her chest. "Stripped bare, they don't even have names any longer. Their retinal patterns and fingerprints have been expunged from all but the most-classified systems. They possess parts which weren't grown, but microengineered."

"Wait a tic – yer tellin' me they's cyborgs?" Jayne wasn't too sure what to do with that information. The last time he'd checked, cyborgs were the domain of sci-fi, not the real 'verse.

River gave him her very best 'don't be a moron' look. "No. Not like cortex vids. Not like storybooks. More like Tracy's insides were – designed to be more than or other than biological born human. Small implants in the heart and lungs to increase efficiency and reduce the efficacy of adrenal response. Others within their brains to streamline thinking and enhance reflexes and observational awareness."

Even Jayne knew about the microscopic machines that could be implanted into folk to regulate things that weren't up to the task on their own – before he'd died, his own Pa'd had a pacemaker to sort out a wonky heartbeat he'd been born with. Others he knew of only by reputation, like the teeny bit of gadgetry that rich diabetics could choose over a lifetime of insulin shots. He supposed what River was talking about was more of the same, only used on what would have otherwise been a healthy human. "'Kay, not cyborgs," he grinned at her, letting her know he wasn't above poking fun at himself when it was warranted. "I'm assumin' they _can_ be killed."

She nodded. "They _are_ still mostly-biological. Not human any longer, though. They look like it and sound like it but their humanity was stripped away by a surgeon's scalpel."

"Ain't doubtin' that, li'l bit. Ain't nobody what's _human_ coulda made those feds scream like that back on Ariel."

"Preferred weapon is an S-Bar," River said.

Jayne frowned. "Makes sense, I reckon. S-Bars're small, don't show on a weapons-scan, an' only have a three or four foot effective range. Unidirectional, too, unlike most sonics. Never did like 'em much m'self." There was something, to Jayne's way of thinking, that was indefinably ignoble about using sound to kill.

"I don't know if they wear armor or not, but I would assume so."

"Hoods, too?"

She shook her head. "No. Under a suit; the better to blend into the scenery and be forgotten."

"So, aim fer their heads," Jayne tried to smile reassuringly, but it came across more as a grimace than anything cheerful. "Speakin' of, they gonna be readin' us?"

Some of the tension in River drained away. She didn't let go of her knees, but she did stop trying to press them through her ribs. "No. They did not know when they started on me what I was truly capable of. They wanted my mind. My mental acuity was nearly their ideal for the program. They didn't know I was a reader until it had already begun." She shifted her eyes to a point somewhere over Jayne's shoulder. "Initial reactions were to terminate the subject. One scientist petitioned for the subject to remain within the program, to see what effects psychic ability had on the outcome of the program. It was met with a favorable reaction by the ones who controlled the funding…"

Jayne winced, both at her avoidance of placing herself within her own words and at how altogether too easy it was to picture a government R'n'D geek salivating over the potential housed within a psychic. "Well, then, li'l bit – sounds like we got ourselves the advantage, don't it?"

River blinked and shifted her eyes back to Jayne. "How so?"

"We know they're comin', ta start with, an' they don't know we know. 'At right there's enough ta switch this from a defensive measure ta an offensive one. Ain't no stretch ta figure how they found us. Wi' this job bein' legal, Mal woulda filed the flight-plan wi' Port Authority on Persephone, an' the reward on ya an' yer brother's enough ta make anyone want a piece o'it. What they ain't gonna know, though, is just _who_ the passengers aboard Serenity are."

River frowned. "They would fight on my behalf?"

Jayne made a teetering motion with his hand. "Sorta," he said. "Iffen them hundans show afore ya sign the paperwork ta join, they ain't gonna fight more than ta keep themselves safe. Since we ain't on-world, they'll also make sure the ship stays spaceworthy. Iffen the xiniu qingwa cao de liumang hundans don't show 'til after, though, then they'll fight harder." (8)

"You protect what's yours," River said, speaking of the Guild in general.

Jayne nodded. "Yep," he agreed. "We do."

River cocked her head slightly sideways and sighed. "Simon wants me."

"Go on, then. I'll talk wi' Hu, give 'em a heads-up on what's comin'. Iffen Mal don't piss me off t'day, I'll consider tellin' him, too."

River smirked, then faded from Jayne's head. Jayne sat there a moment, enjoying the absence of crazy bitty genius girls for a moment, then wrenched himself back to the real world. He rushed through his morning routine, then dressed in his typical cargo-pants and boots. Before putting a shirt on, he strapped a specially-designed holster to the underside of his right forearm; it contained eight shuriken held in place with trick catches. A similar holster was secured to his left forearm, but that one contained a triad of throwing spikes, rather than stars. A stiletto got slid into his left boot, with a slightly smaller version of Binky joining it in his right. He then put on his long-sleeved Guild shirt rather than any of his others – it was always best to have a visual reminder of rank when there was a distinct possibility he would wind up having to give orders to the company. Then he grabbed his gun belt and rearranged its contents. Boo still hung down his right hip, but Binky was moved to hang down the midpoint of his back. Donna – a chromed Xiao Emo PPK with a thirty-round clip – took position on his left. Just behind Donna, he hung a particularly wicked-looking triple-bladed dagger, though its blade was concealed by a cylindrical sheath.

As ready as he could make himself without sacrificing mobility, Jayne climbed out of his bunk and headed down to the cargo bay. Most of the Qianfeng were already up, waiting in lines for the chem-shower or digging through their crate of ration-packs. Hu saw Jayne approaching. He looked him over, then asked, "Expecting trouble?" once Jayne was close enough for conversation.

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Not too sure when, 'xactly, just got some intel Serenity's bein' hunted by some very unsavory folk."

"Details?"

"Pair o'em, at the least. Not too fussed with collateral damages. Prefer usin' S-Bars up close, but I got _no_ intel on what sort o'weapons their ship might carry. Got the impression they picked up our trail on Persephone, so whatever they're usin', it's _fast_."

Hu let out a piercing whistle around his fingers. Jayne had a quick flash of envy – he'd never been able to do that, no matter how hard he'd tried. The rest of the company stopped what they were doing – even the O'Ryan twin poked his head out of the chemical shower to listen. "General alert," Hu said. "Awaiting more information."

The group headed as one to another crate they'd brought with them. The O'Ryan in the shower a couple of steps behind as he had to wriggle into a pair of shorts first. While Brace handed out Jarkey-bows – a type of crossbow whose bolts were designed to pierce flesh but shatter on contact with anything harder – Hu asked Jayne, "Does this ship possess any weaponry?"

Knowing he wasn't asking about his personal arsenal or the ship's armory, Jayne shook his head. "Not so much as an EMP cannon," he said.

"O, zhe shi hui hen youqu," Hu's sarcasm was nearly palpable. (9)

"Cheer up, Hu – it coulda been worse," Jayne replied.

Hu sighed. "There is that. Whoever your informant is, I hope you pay them well."

Jayne didn't bother replying. Instead he looked over the crates he'd helped arrange and then to the badges printed on the Qianfeng's shirts. "Y'all bring any lasers with ya?"

"A few," Hu replied. "Why?"

A slow smirk spread across Jayne's face. "'Cause I think I got me a plan."

* * *

**A/N2:** I went grocery shopping with my niece (she's 20, by the way) and since she's seven months pregnant I wound up carrying the basket (we were only after taco fixins). We got there and she asked me 'where to first?' I pointed at her and said something along the lines of 'wherever ya want – you're the one with the money'. She laughed at me, then replied, 'it's not money – it's free' (food stamps or EBT or WIC or whatever it is that they give pregnant army vets who're out of work these days). I replied (without thinking) 'okay, so you've got all the money-substitute. Still your call'. It took us both nearly ten minutes to stop laughing long enough to actually make past the entryway.

Anyway, amusing anecdotes aside, if you want a picture of Jayne's triple-bladed dagger, go to triple-w-dot-instash-dot-com and search for 'jagkommando tri-dagger knife'. I saw that and _immediately_ had a 'Jayne moment' (essentially, something in my head went 'oh! Pretty! Me WANT!').

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Xiang San Ji _– 'Township Three', translation by Google.

2.) _Meiyou_ – 'no', translation by Google.

3.) _Shi_ – 'yes', translation by Google.

4.) _Haose_ – 'lecherous', translation by Google.

5.) _Pigu_ – 'ass', translation by Google.

6.) _Yingjun de nanxing de routi de lizi_ – 'handsome example of male flesh', translation by Google.

7.) _Ni tama de tianxia suoyou de ren dou gaisi_ – 'everyone under the heavens ought to die', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

8.) _Xiniu qingwa cao de liumang hundans_ – 'cow-sucking, frog-fucking son-of-a-bitching bastards', translations by Browncoats-dot-com.

9.) _O, zhe shi hui hen youqu_ – 'oh, this is gonna be fun', translation by Google.


	13. Thermite

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **A quick clarification on the timeline for this story (since I've received more than one question regarding such, I'm sure more of y'all have similar questions): Serenity is still about six days away from Ita. Day one was June 10; the Qianfeng loaded up on the ship, Jayne received his 30-year chit, and River dove into Jayne's mind. Day two was June 11; Simon was unable to wake River because she was locked in Jayne's mind, after they woke, Jayne got angry at dinner, talked with Kaylee, then gave River her first lesson, and wound up sleeping on the foredeck. Day three was June 12; Jayne came up with the idea to have River sign with the Guild on her 18th birthday and sparred with most of the members of the Qianfeng. Day four is where I left off. It's June 13; the Tall Card game finished at about one or two in the morning, Jayne slept with Lisette, and River passed along her info about the Blue Handed men. Everyone now on the same page? Fantabulous!

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Thirteen: Thermite_

Despite what he'd told River about possibly not informing Mal about their pursuers, as soon as he and Hu had hammered out all the details, Jayne went looking for the captain. He found him sitting at the table in the galley, going over some figures on a sheet of scrap paper. "Cap'n?"

The captain looked up and saw Jayne and the mercenary commander standing at the far end of the table, both looking rather tense. He sat his pencil down. "Whacha need, Jayne?"

"Need us a bit o'palaver," Jayne helped himself to the pot of tea on the stove. With a gesture he offered Hu a cup, which the man declined with a small shake of his head.

Mal's first instinct was that his hired gun was about to incite a mutiny with the help of his friends, but reason kicked in before he could open his mouth for a string of unreasonable accusations. "What about?" he asked instead.

Jayne took the seat to Mal's left – the captain was sitting at the head of the table – and Hu sat across from Jayne. "Li'l witch said sommat," Jayne said.

"She says a lot of things," Mal replied, wondering where this was going, "most've which ain't nobody knows what they mean, not even her." He eyeballed the merc commander while he spoke, wondering just how much of Serenity's personal business Jayne had let slip.

Jayne let out a strangled growling noise, "Gorram it, Mal! Wouldja jus' shut up an' _listen _ta me for a spell?" He sat the tin cup of tea down before he could slosh it over his hands.

Again, Mal's instinctual reaction had to be wrestled down; he locked the 'don't give me orders on my own damn boat' into a mental box while Bo's information flitted freely through his mind. He stared at the starburst badge on Jayne's chest. _Education focused on engineering, chemistry, and, to a slightly lesser extent, human anatomy… Comparable to a master's degree from a Core university…_ "Okay," he said, "I'm listenin'. What did she have ta say?"

The lack of Mal's typical reaction managed to make Jayne's brain hiccup for a moment. After what felt like hours, but wound up only being a long moment, he finally found the right words. "Said we're gonna be havin' comp'ny o'the unfavorable sort, an' soonlike. Sometime either t'day or t'morrow."

"Feds?" the inner curiosity over the Guild Mal had been nursing over the past couple of days faded away as his 'captainy' self came to the fore.

Jayne shook his head. "Not 'xactly – don't reckon feds'd kill each other like that," the last bit was said in an undertone, more to himself than to Mal, while glancing at his tea and hearing those pained screams on Ariel echoing in his memory. He looked back at the captain. "Don't believe they's true feds. Them's the 'hands o'blue' she's always spewin' on 'bout." Jayne made a mental note to contact Hen and see if the man had any better information on them.

Mal was uncertain why, but something about these 'hands of blue' had his merc spooked. _He only gets this edgy 'bout reavers._ "It's of interest to me," Mal said while his brain was busy working on about three dozen things at once, "how you got that much sense out of her."

Jayne shrugged, "Story fer another time, Mal, when we ain't got more pressin' matters."

Mal made a 'you might have a point' gesture. "I'm guessin' ya got a plan… And maybehaps some more intel ya wanna share?"

"Not much on the intel," Jayne replied. "But we do got some ideas what might'll do some good."

"I'm listening…"

"Dunno iffen they got any weapons on-ship, but I figure whatever they's runnin', it's gotta be fast. Reckon they picked up our trail back in Eavesdown." Jayne paused for a drink.

Mal nodded in agreement. "There ain't but a handful of ships that are built for speed _and_ have significant firepower aboard." He frowned, but not at Jayne. "Just the two of them, do you think?"

"Not sure, but I got the feelin' they don't play well wi' othern, so I'd assume so," Jayne said, marveling at having what was for all intents and purposes, a _conversation_ with Mal that had nothing to do with teasing Kaylee.

"Probably a Comet, then," Mal said. "No sense in tryin' to run anything bigger when it's just two folks."

"Mayhaps," Jayne drained his mug. "But I don't think so – they's attached to that academy what had the li'l witch. God only knows what-all they got access to. Could be some newfangled goushi what nobody's seen afore." (1)

Mal nodded. "Could be at that," he allowed. "We got any chance of outrunning them?"

"How the hell'd I know? Ain't that why ya got a pilot?" Jayne did a pretty fair imitation of River's 'you boob' look, though he was unaware of it.

"If I may?" Hu metaphorically stepped into the conversation. "No disrespect at all to your vessel, Captain Reynolds, but I doubt that your ship is capable of outrunning much in the way of pursuit."

"She might just surprise you," Mal retorted, defending the honor of his favorite 'lady'. But then he slumped a little, knowing that as much as he loved Serenity, she simply didn't have the power of even the cheaper modern skiffs. "But even so, I'm pretty sure you ain't far wrong. So, since I know Jayne here knows we ain't an armored transport, what did y'all have in mind?"

"From what Zhu Cobb has told me, these men favor close combat, with a strong leaning to sonic weaponry," Hu said. "Now, I'm uncertain if you've had the misfortune of being on the targeted end of a sonic weapon, but they certainly are _not_ something I am willing to face, nor am I willing to allow my men to face such. This means we will need to attempt to keep these men from docking."

"Easily done," Mal said. "I figure Kaylee could put a temporary short on the airlock doors, or maybe Jayne could simply weld them shut for the duration."

"I'm not simply referring to keeping them off of the ship, Captain," Hu replied. "It would be preferable if we could evade contact with them entirely." Mal nodded in agreement, but Hu continued, "However, I was informed that won't be entirely possible."

"Why not?" Mal asked. "We ain't but five or six hours out from Heinlein right now, could pick a moon and hunker down."

"Ain't no way o'tellin' iffen they got the means ta track our reactor," Jayne answered the question. "If not, then they's just gonna wait fer us at Ita, mayhaps even get some o'their buddies ta come along fer a nice li'l ambush. Nah, best ta deal with 'em in the here an' now."

"Zhu Cobb tells me your ship sports some rather unique upgrades to your long-range sensors?" Hu asked.

Mal nodded. "Surely do. Got tired of not hearin' a peep from 'em before we were right on top of something." Kaylee and Wash had put their heads together to come up with a way to force the rather archaic systems on board Serenity into accepting some of the newer releases of equipment. Resultantly, individual cortex screens weren't their only purchases at the black market electronics shop on Beaumonde; they'd also walked away with a pirated sensor array normally only found on Alliance vessels. Kaylee'd about had hysterics over being told to dirty them up to make the array less conspicuous, but she'd done her typically stellar job.

"Do they sweep a full sphere, or only a partial?"

"Each do a half-ball," Mal replied. "Got three of 'em overlappin', so we can keep our ears out in all directions."

"And their range?"

"'Bout two hours or so," Mal said.

Hu's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You must possess a truly gifted programmer, Captain." Mal didn't really reply, just made a small 'thanks, but you were saying?' gesture. "That will be more than adequate warning time."

"For what?"

"Five of my men are trained in EVA, Captain," Hu said, "myself included."

Mal's forehead furrowed slightly. Jayne added his own two cents, "An' iffen ya ain't got anythin' better what needs done wi' them pipes in the bay, I can make us sommat what should keep them lan se de shou hundans busy." (2)

Hu nodded, "And I _will_ volunteer myself and my men into lending whatever additional hands might be necessary."

"So, whacha got in mind?" Mal asked.

宁静

17A finished collating the data at hand. One of the Persephone Port Authority controllers had proven to be just as greedy as the boy who had originally called in their tip and they now possessed all pertinent data. "The child was accurate, the zero-three-K-six-four, moniker of 'Serenity', departed the Eavesdown docks at fourteen-twenty-nine on June tenth, official time."

"Passenger manifest?" 17B asked.

"Simply 'fifteen passengers, private registry'."

"Which can only mean either Alliance coverts –"

"Unlikely, considering Ita is their registered destination."

"Or Guild."

17A nodded decisively. "Probability exceeds ninety-nine percent that they are transporting mercenaries."

"Agreed. Tactics must shift with this new information."

"Standard boarding procedure has an eighty-nine percent chance of success."

17B looked at his companion and made a mental note to have him adjusted once their current mission was complete. _Implant GHK-seventy appears to be failing._ "Eleven percent is eight percent greater than acceptable margin-of-error. Tactics must shift to compensate."

17A nodded, then stripped the glove off of his right hand. 17B mirrored the action, only stripping his left hand. Had anyone else been there to see it, they would have seen, imbedded in their palms, a bio-port; the port allowed anyone with a similar feature and the appropriate cerebral implants to link their minds, like hard-wiring a pair of computers together.

It took a moment for both minds to sync, then the pair worked in concert to come up with and figure the probability of success of several potential options. Had River been able to see what they did, she would have actually understood why the Academy was so interested in her own brain – she did, all by herself, what it took two or more of her predecessors through the Academy, linked with highly dangerous, controversial, and illegal bio-ports, to be able to do.

宁静

Kaylee was sitting in the common area with the Qianfeng's explosives crew – the Robak brothers – with some music playing on the cortex. All four of them were sitting around the coffee table, engaged in rather puzzling activities to Simon's eyes. Kaylee had a length of iron pipe and was filing the end in an atypical haphazard fashion; what was even more odd was the fact that she was very carefully collecting the filings into a paper cone taped to the edge of the table, that emptied into a glass jar on the floor. The tallest Robak brother was similarly filing down a piece of aluminum venting conduit. While Simon watched, the other two Robaks emptied what appeared to be converted coffee-mills into another pair of jars.

"What are we doing?" Simon asked, trying for nonchalance as he attempted to flop onto a battered brown armchair.

The three brothers looked up at him, then snickered. The shorter of them – not that any of the three were truly _short_, mind – grinned and said, "Nage nanhai dedaole ta de pigu yi bang xiexing zhijin, wo bu hui gandao jingya ruguo ta you ta de shetou tiao suipian mei tian!" (3)

While his brothers guffawed, Kaylee glared at them, then smiled up at Simon. "Ignore them, Simon – you happened to walk in on a 'worst Chinese insult ever' contest," she glanced at John. "I think Johnny just won, by the way."

Remembering a couple of times he and River had done something similar, particularly during long and dull dinner parties they weren't allowed to join in on, Simon decided not to take offense. "Be that as it may," he said, "it doesn't answer my question."

"Hell, doc, I dunno 'bout _you_, but I'd think it's pretty damn obvious what _we're_ doin'," Paul said.

Greg barely waited for his brother to finish before asking, "Why's it that all doctorial-type-folks – save Tora – always talk like that? 'How're _we_ doing' an' such, like they got some claim on a person's body 'at they don't got."

Kaylee jumped in with, "Aw, Simon didn't mean it like that, guys! He was just wantin' ta know what we're doin' an' if he could help any, is all."

Simon hadn't really meant it that way, but decided not to correct her. _I've already been laughed at enough by this group for now._ "What _are _you doing?"

"Makin' filings. Aluminum an' iron, though the iron ones gotta get heated with some water once we're done with 'em," John explained it as though that should mean something to Simon.

Jayne interrupted from the stairs to the galley before Simon could ask for clarification. He saw the confusion on the doc's face and smirked some as he crossed over to the Robaks and Kaylee. "We're makin' thermite, doc," he said.

Simon blinked, then winced. "Do I even want to know _why_?"

"Ain't a whole helluva lot what'll burn in space, doc," Jayne replied. "Thermite _will_, an' it burns hot 'nough ta melt most external weapons-arrays, close ta twenty-five hunnert degrees," Jayne said. He then turned his attention to Kaylee. "'At sticky-gun ain't where ya said it'd be. Got a better idea?"

Kaylee paused and wrinkled her forehead. "Coulda swore I left it on the shelf behind my hammock…" she sighed, then her expression relaxed. "Oh! That's right! I was usin' it when the cap'n's bunk shorted – think I mighta left it in there."

"I'll check wi' Mal," Jayne replied, then turned to go.

"Hey, Jayne?" Paul spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"Got a firebrick?" he asked.

Jayne grinned. "I like the way ya think, kid – yeah. I'll get it when I find the damn sticky-gun." He hurried up the stairs, whistling melodically through his teeth.

Simon sighed a little and slumped in the chair. "Pardon my intrusion, but isn't thermite rather dangerous?" He recalled a man from his ER rotation who'd come in with thermite burns down his arm – the man's hand simply ceased to exist midway across his palm.

"Can be," Greg replied. "But we," he hooked a thumb at himself and his brothers, "know what we're doin'. Spent a good three years of our lives learnin' all matter o'chemistry."

Simultaneously, the Robaks recited, "Ah, chemistry – the fine art of learnin' how to blow shit up."

John sat the file he was using down, along with the bit of aluminum ducting, then shook his hands. "Hey, Paulie – trade me for a while. My hands is goin' numb."

They got up and traded places while Simon asked, "I wouldn't have imagined a mercenary would have much need for chemistry."

"There's where ya'd be wrong, doc," Paul replied. "We ain't just a buncha dumbass freelancers, ya know."

"May I ask what the difference is? Between you and a… a _freelancer_?"

"Anybody with a gun an' a willin'ness ta use it can call 'emselves a mercenary, doc," Paul explained. "But a Guildsman – we're like…"

John jumped in with what was likely the only comparison that would make sense to the obviously Core-bred man, "It's like the diff'rence 'tween a whore an' a companion, doc."

Paul nodded, "Yeah. Companions spend what? Near on five or six years learnin' their trade afore they's allowed ta take a client?"

Simon echoed the nod, recalling a couple of conversations he'd had with Inara. "I believe so."

"Same case wi' the Guild, doc," Greg said. "Now, me an' m'brothers here, we's from Paris," he named one of Persephone's two moons. "I'm a year younger 'an Paulie, an' two older 'an Johnny-boy, an' the three of us…"

"We were right terrors for our folks back home," Paul said, laughing at the memory. "Always causin' trouble – blowin' up post-boxes an' such. So, when we pulled one prank too many, Dad'n'Mom shipped us off ta Balanced Sun Hall. I was sixteen at the time. The three of us passed pretty quickly inta our Blacks – Mom had always been pretty insistent on makin' sure we got good grades in school. Anyways, after Johnny got his Blacks, we three decided ta go inta explosives. Learn all 'bout the booms what _ain't_ caused by black powder. Did pretty damn well for ourselves, too, even if I gotta say so m'own self."

"Bo says that the amount we learn for chemistry an' engineerin' from the Guild's about the same level as what they teach on her homeworld an' call it a 'mastery' or some such," John said, then added, "Bo Lin's one of our snipers. She an' her husband hail from Jisha-Anwei."

Simon recognized the 'university moon' without any difficulty. He'd originally wanted to attend the MedAcad on Jisha-Anwei, but his father refused to allow study so 'far from home' – Jisha-Anwei orbited Osiris. "I…" he had no idea what to say, but he was highly impressed. "Does the Guild teach all their specializations to a similar level?" he eventually managed to ask.

"Pretty damn close," Paul said. "Some get more, some get less, but for the most part… Yeah. 'S how come Guildsmen, pa'ticularly companies, are so ruttin' expensive."

"An' a big part of why Jayne's expected ta take over Balanced Sun Hall here in a few years," Greg said. In a slightly lower tone, he asked Paul, "An' do ya feel as weird as me in callin' Zhu Cobb 'Jayne'?"

Paul snorted. "Hell, Greg – he's just folk."

"What about Jayne?" Simon asked before the Robaks could distract themselves from what was proving to be an enlightening conversation.

"Well," John said. "Jayne's only missin' three expert ranks from havin' badges in _all_ the Guild's specialties. The three he don't got are vacuo-survival, medic, an' communications, right?" He asked the question of his brothers.

Greg and Paul nodded, but Paul spoke. "Yeah, that's right. I don't 'xpect he's ever gonna try for medic, but I heard him tell Zhu Hu 'at the only reason he ain't got the vacuo-badge is 'cause he ain't been back ta the Hall ta test for it since he joined up with Serenity. Said the first six months he was aboard, y'all," he was now speaking to Kaylee and Simon, "did a powerful lot of salvage jobs."

Kaylee nodded. "We did," she said, pausing in her own filing for a moment. "An' the second run he ever did in an EVA suit, he got hit by a micrometeor. Ripped a hole straight through his left arm – left a scar that looks a bit like the one he got on the other side from bein' shot." The three brothers winced in unison. Simon was tempted to do likewise. He'd seen the scar in question – had, indeed, seen both of what he'd assumed to be bullet scars – placed roughly three inches above the man's elbow. "But he didn't even blink, didn't panic none," Kaylee continued with her story. "Just slapped a patch over it an' tol' Mal he'd been hit by somethin'. They finished the job an' came back to the ship."

She didn't mention it, but Jayne _had_ panicked some, but only _after_ he'd gotten safely back on the ship and Zoë had finished stitching the deep graze. It had been three weeks since Jayne had joined the crew, and after accidentally witnessing Jayne's adrenaline-crash, that had marked the night Kaylee had decided to start flirting back with the man. A hint of wistfulness that they hadn't worked out flitted through her, but she pushed it away with the ease of long practice. _We make better sibs than we ever did lovers. He don't let nobody close, an' I don't mean physically. His heart's all bricked up. _A tiny, secret smile tugged the corners of her mouth. _Hope I get ta see it when them bricks finally get torn down. Think it'll be somethin' real special._

While Kaylee was drifting in her thoughts, the conversation Simon was participating in continued without her. "You're telling me that _Jayne_, Jayne Cobb, the man who was just here a moment ago, that _he's_…" Simon groped for the right words, but couldn't quite call them to him.

"Hell, doc," Greg interrupted. "Who d'ya think taught our first class on IEDs?"

"You should read the text down his right arm, doc," Paul added. "It's a list of all the classes he can teach back at the Hall."

The melodic whistling returned, growing steadily louder as Jayne appeared on the stairs. In one hand, he carried a brightly metallic silver brick, and in the other, he carried the universal glue-gun from Kaylee's toolkit. John smiled, "Speak of the devil!"

"An' the devil shall appear," Jayne stopped his whistling to complete the ages-old saying. "Take it y'all were talkin' 'bout me?"

"Nothin' bad, I swear," Kaylee said, smiling at him.

Jayne reached down and ruffled her hair. "Nah, I know ya wouldn't hold none ta any bad-mouthin', Kaylee-girl, an' these quchong know better 'an ta try it." (4)

"Nah," Paul said. "Was just usin' ya ta make a point. The doc here was askin' the difference between a Guildsman an' a freelancer."

Simon, even though the knowledge he'd been given made him feel as though he were drowning in jello, nodded. Jayne shrugged, then changed the subject. "I'm gonna need the thermite afore lunch. It gonna be ready?"

"Assumin' ain't nobody gonna need a stove-burner, it should," Paul replied. "Did ya want it compressed?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, a six-inch ball, if ya can do it. Would rather have a pair, jus' in case, but do what ya can. Better ta have one what'll work ready, than ta only have two half-done."

"Shi, Zhu Cobb," John replied with a cocky little salute.

"Ain't teachin' Mini-Robak," he purposefully used the nickname he'd used eight years earlier when he'd had the brothers come through his class on improvised explosives. "'S just Jayne."

John groaned. "I am six feet even, ya know. Two whole inches taller than Dad. I am _not_ the mini in the Robak family!"

Jayne chuckled and deposited the magnesium brick on the coffee table. "Shouldn't need more 'an an ounce or two of the firebrick in the mix," he said, then headed off in search of the doctor's little sister.

He found River curled up on Kaylee's hammock. She wasn't sleeping, but she did have her eyes closed. "Hey," he said.

She opened one eye and peered at him. "You're nearly as yellow as Kaylee. You enjoy destruction too much."

"Ain't nothin' wrong wi' taken out them as need it, li'l bit. You're bein' a touch more sensible 'an normal."

"Have no normal," River countered. "Simon caught me. Needles in the arm. Hate needles. People are better. They're focusing on helping and they do, though they know it not."

"Havin' somethin' fer the Qianfeng ta work on helps ya?"

She nodded and opened her other eye. "Yes, in focusing, they don't project outwards as strongly. It is directed inwards, but not as much as during sleep." She made a motion as though she wanted to sit up, then abandoned it before it was fairly begun. "Gorram drugs tie the gastrointestinal system into origami cranes and fill my head with water." She closed her eyes again. "Liquid sloshing around, molecules bouncing off of one another, needing only a spark to become gaseous –"

"So," Jayne cut her ramble off. "I take it ya ain't gonna be havin' lunch."

She acquired a greenish tinge at the suggestion. "Don't speak of it again."

He smirked a little at her bossy tone, but couldn't help but feel sorry for her. _Shitty choice, havin' ta decide 'tween eatin' an' thinkin'._ "I won't," he promised. "Wanted ta know iffen ya had any more intel on them what's followin' us."

She nodded, the motion barely perceptible. "They ride a Whirlwind," she said. "Built for speed in or out of atmo."

"So they ain't got much in the way o'weapons, then?"

"Zap, and it all goes dark. Zot, and it all blows away. Dust in the wind," she said.

"Sorry, li'l bit – didn't get that." Jayne prided himself on knowing weapons. He'd never heard of a weapon by the name of 'zap' or 'zot' and couldn't really figure what she meant.

"EMP," she said. "Small laser cannon. Neither range greater than about a kilometer."

"Thanks," he said, then left her to her misery. _Ain't nobody likes bein' bothered none when they feel like crap_.

* * *

**A/N2:** Thermite will burn in space, I promise (and I find it amusing that my Word dictionary keeps offering to change 'thermite' to 'termite'). Also, the degrees Jayne was using are Celsius, not Fahrenheit – in Fahrenheit, thermite burns at nearly four thousand degrees.

Sorry this took a few days to get out. I got sidetracked doing some research, then when I finally sat down to write the damn thing, I kept getting interrupted. I love the fact I've actually got family (other than Mom) living nearby (for the first time in five years), but I'm also wishing they lived further away than just across the parking lot (we live in the same apartment complex now). They keep dropping by for no better reason than to raid my fridge, I swear! /end of rant.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Goushi_ – 'shit', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

2.) _Lan se de shou hundans_ – 'blue-handed bastards', translation by Google.

3.) _Nage nanhai dedaole ta de pigu yi bang xiexing zhijin, wo bu hui gandao jingya ruguo ta you ta de shetou tiao suipian mei tian_ – 'That boy's got a stick wedged so far up his ass, I wouldn't be surprised if he had to pick splinters out of his tongue on a daily basis', translation by Google.

4.) _Quchong_ – 'maggots', translation by Google.

5.) _Shi_ – 'affirmative', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

**Edit 02/04/2013:** Located a continuity error regarding moons of Persephone. Corrected the error.


	14. Twosies

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **Hee! I really, really, really liked writing this chapter. Hope y'all like reading it as much!

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Fourteen: Twosies_

"How come ya gotta cook the iron?" Kaylee asked, perched on the table in the galley. The jar of powdered aluminum sat next to a smaller bowl of magnesium powder behind her. A sheet of waxed paper and her glue-gun also took up some of the table space.

Paul stood at the stove, stirring a small quantity of the iron powder, mixed with water, in an old coffee can. The heat was on high. "Well, ya know fire's gotta breathe, right?"

Kaylee nodded. "Yeah."

"An' there ain't no air – no oxygen – in space."

She nodded again. "Know that. What's it got ta do with cookin' the filings, though?"

"The air for it's gotta come from somewhere," Paul replied. "So, since there weren't much rust on that pipe we used, we gotta make the rust ourselves."

"Rust?" The mechanic frowned. "I'm confused."

"You ain't never took a basic chemistry class, have ya?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Went through the vo-ag options for my high school science requirements. The chemistry/biology pre-college track conflicted with shop."

Paul chuckled and checked the status of the powder he was turning into rust. "Somehow, that makes perfect sense," he said, dumping the contents of the pan into a makeshift sieve consisting of a coffee filter taped to another empty coffee can. He poured another small quantity of iron filings into his pot-can and added water, then returned it to the stove. "Well," he continued explaining, even as he worked, "what makes rust is oxygen bindin' ta the iron. Happens faster if there's water present, and goes even faster if it's hot. In makin' thermite, the rust is basically solid air for the aluminum an' magnesium ta breathe once it starts burnin'."

"Oh," Kaylee chirped.

Before she could say anything else, the toaster oven dinged, and Greg, working in the narrow space behind his brother, removed the coffee-filter of rust powder and emptied it into a jar, then put the new filter Paul had just finished with on the tray in its place. He turned the machine back on to finish drying the powdered rust.

"Okay," she said, once they finished side-stepping around each other, "lemme see if I got this right: The rust you're makin' is the air the fire's gonna breathe, an' the fuel it's gonna burn is the aluminum, right?"

Greg nodded. "Yep," he agreed.

"Then what's the magnesium for?" she asked. "I mean, I know ya can use it ta get a campfire started, even if it's pourin' rain, but I dunno why y'all're addin' it."

"It's so we don't have to adjust the laser rifles any," Greg explained. "Both Bo an' Keegan get a mite tetchy if we gotta muck up their toys."

"What's that got ta do with anythin'?" Kaylee was rapidly getting confused, but unlike most others on board Serenity, she wasn't shy about telling people so. _And the Robaks are pretty good at explainin' all this stuff_.

"The lasers," John said as he entered the galley carrying a pair of wooden tongue depressors hijacked from the infirmary, "only shoot at about seven-hunnert degrees. More 'an enough ta cause all sorts o'hurt ta a person, but not quite hot enough ta get the thermite ta burn." He took a seat and stripped the paper covers off the tongue depressors. "So, ta cut down on causin' frettin' on behalf o'the snipers, ya gotta add somethin' ta the mix what'll make it easier to catch fire. Magnesium'll catch fire at six-hunnert-fifty degrees, but'll burn upwards o'thirty-one-hunnert, which is hot enough ta get the whole thing burnin' better 'an Christmas candles."

"Not ta mention," Greg added, "it'd take a good three, maybe up ta five hours we ain't sure we got ta adjust the rifles."

Kaylee smiled. "Makes sense," she said.

宁静

While the Robaks and Kaylee worked on putting together the ingredients needed for the only incendiary Serenity could lay hands on in the time allowed that would do the job needed, Jayne went about making sure the other details of his plan came into being. Currently, he was up on the bridge with Wash.

"Still don't see why the run-and-hide scenario wouldn't work," the pilot complained.

"'Cause, like I said afore, could-be theys got ways o'trackin' us. Better iffen we can't force them ta where we want 'em, then take care o'it." Jayne peered over the pilot's shoulder at the star chart. "Wait," he said, as Wash scrolled past something that looked like it might do. "What's that?" Jayne pointed to a small cluster of asteroids.

"God's Jacks," Wash replied.

"Huh?"

The pilot adjusted the screen to show the same five asteroids when viewed from above the planetary orbital disk. "God's Jacks," he repeated. The black-and-grey rocks now shared a strong resemblance to the childhood toys, complete with a roundish one that looked rather like a bouncy-ball. Wash hit a button to return the view to its original layout, and looked up at Jayne.

The mercenary had his left arm across his chest, holding on to his right bicep, while his right arm was bent at the elbow, his right hand's fingers tapping an odd rhythm on his left collar bone. "Could do," Jayne said, more to himself than to Wash. In a slightly louder tone of voice, he said, "Go back to that overhead view." Wash did so. "Can ya zoom in some?" The image grew larger. Jayne pointed to the depression in one of the edge 'jacks'. "Thinkin' that might do fer a good ambush-point. 'S the big one good 'nough ta park on?"

Wash pulled up the info on the 'bouncy-ball' asteroid. He read it quickly, then nodded. "Barely, but yeah."

Without looking, Jayne reached up and hit the intercom to the engine room. "Are ya still there, li'l bit?"

After a moment of silence, River's voice came through the speaker. "Yes. It is a good plan. I'll go get Kaylee."

"'Preciate it." Wash again twisted his head around to stare at Jayne. Jayne flicked the intercom off and noticed the look the pilot was giving him. "What?" he asked, defensive, but not really knowing why.

Wash's feet swiveled his chair around. "Just never heard you call River anything other than 'crazy', 'moonbrain', 'the fengle girl', or – on one memorable occasion – 'that fengkuang de dao huiwuzhe fengzi'." (1)

Jayne let out a snort of amusement. "So?"

"Just wondering what changed…"

The mercenary shrugged. "Not a whole helluva lot. She still ain't right in her own mind, so 'at all still applies."

"'Her own mind'? Simon said she somehow managed to trap herself in your brain the other day; it was why he couldn't wake her and why, I'm guessing, we wound up carrying you to the infirmary. That mean she's _not_ crazy in your head?" Wash asked.

With how rarely Wash accompanied them planetside on jobs, it was easy for Jayne to forget just how sharp the man really was. Jayne shrugged a little. "No more 'an anyone what's never had bits o'their brains hacked out."

"What's she like? Not nuts, I mean." Wash couldn't help but be a little curious.

Jayne shrugged again, this one more definite. "Like she is normally, only 'thout so much o'the answerin' questions what weren't asked out loud an' less o'the sayin' folks is spikey or turquoise or any o'that fengle goushi." (2)

Even though Wash really wanted more details, he had known Jayne long enough that the man's tone was indicative he wouldn't be saying anything more on that particular topic. So, instead, the pilot addressed one of the other bits of curiosity he'd been carrying since hearing what River had done. "What was it like, having her in your head?"

"Worst headache I ever did have," Jayne admitted. Since everyone aboard knew he'd been _carried_ to the infirmary, he didn't see the sense in trying to deny it.

"Not quite what I meant," Wash said.

Jayne shook his head. "Know what ya meant, but I can't rightly 'xplain it none. It was more 'an a li'l weird, seein' her in m'head."

"I would imagine so," Wash agreed.

"No," Jayne argued, "I don't think ya really can." He let go of his arm and ran a hand over his hair. "I'm gonna go see how things is goin'. Don't shift our course 'til after Kaylee gets her part started." Before Wash could reply, Jayne left the bridge.

The mercenary paused long enough in the galley to confirm the ball of thermite would be ready in about an hour, then hurried along to the engine room. "Hey, Jayne," Kaylee greeted, holding herself at an awkward angle above the rotating engine. She had her arms buried elbow-deep in the portion of the cover which didn't slide back. River was still curled up on the hammock.

"Gonna be able ta make us leave a trail 'thout fryin' us none?" he asked.

She nodded. "No problem. I'm just gonna –"

"Don't need ta hear the pa'ticulars, Kaylee-girl," Jayne smiled at her. "How long?"

The crunching sound of breaking ceramic answered him and Kaylee pulled her arms out from under the engine cover. "Five, four," the mechanic and River counted down in chorus. Kaylee quickly set her wrench aside and picked up a fire extinguisher. "Three, two, one." Right on cue, a small spurt of orange flame shot out from under the hood. Distantly, Jayne could hear alarms going off in the cockpit.

Kaylee doused the flames, then grinned through the thin haze of acrid, white smoke at Jayne. "Not long," she replied.

宁静

Even though he'd been expecting it, the sudden blare of the containment-field alarm startled Mal. He hurried over to the comm and hit the button. "Talk to me, Wash."

"Everything's going according to plan, Mal," Wash replied. "I'm adjusting our course even as we speak. Found a good place only an hour from here."

Mal let most of the tension leak from his muscles. Despite his best efforts, not _all_ of it would go away – not until this was wrapped up, one way or the other. He walked back over to the large box where Serenity's EVA suits were stored. "Sir?" Zoë asked, looking up at him from where she was examining one of the suits.

"Shiny," Mal replied, going back to his own task.

Just on the other side of the stairs, a handful of the Qianfeng were working on their own contribution. Hu, Penn, Lisette, and Gail Clark – their intelligence specialist – were fiddling with wires, soldering irons, and a couple of circuit boards. A row of the tiny, cheap, compressed-gas jets Wash and Kaylee used in making cry-babies that needed directional input stood on the second card table.

"How's it comin' down here?" Jayne's voice came from the catwalk.

"Nearly finished, Zhu Cobb," Hu replied. "Did you wish us to craft a second?"

"May as well," Jayne finished descending into the bay. "Might wind up needin' it."

"Suits are good to go," Mal said, finishing up checking the last of them. "Figure on waitin' 'bout an hour or so before sendin' the distress call."

Jayne frowned. "Dunno, might wanna send it sooner. Iffen I was them, I woulda got files on us all – the crew, I mean. They pro'ly know we got a damn good mechanic."

Mal nodded, "I know – it's why I asked Kaylee how long it woulda taken her to find the problem with the containment unit if she ain't knowin' already what caused it. She said about two hours or so, an' knowin' how much she tends to overestimate, I settled on an hour."

Jayne conceded that Mal had a point and nodded back at him. He then headed towards the common area. Through the windows, he could see Simon and Tora chatting in the infirmary. The seven otherwise unoccupied Qianfeng were gathered around the public cortex. "Okay, we're gonna be headin' out in 'bout an hour-an'-a-half," he said. "Silverman Zhang?"

"Shi de, xiansheng?" one of the company's trackers straightened up. (3)

"Zhu Hu tol' me ya got a fair hand at pilotin'."

"Shi de, xiansheng," he nodded.

"Gonna need ya on standby. Iffen the Robaks can get a second incendiary put t'gether, yer gonna run Shuttle One fer Dec-Sil Brace an' Zhu Hu. Might wanna go up an' get Wash ta show ya where ta put down, iffen it comes ta it."

"Shi de, xiansheng," the man sprang out of his seat and all but bolted up the stairs towards the bridge, much to Jayne's amusement.

Wiping the slight smirk from his face, Jayne returned his attention to the group. "Silverman Barr?" he addressed the second companyman with a footprint badge on her uniform, but hers was printed over a second badge: the lightning bolt symbol used within the Guild to indicate training in vacuum.

"Yeah?" Akira looked away from the video playing on the screen.

"Yer gonna be wi' me an' Zoë. Zoë's flyin' fer us. I'm gonna be handlin' the laser rifle. I want ya ta go an' get the info yer gonna need on how ta direct the incendiary ta where it's gotta go."

"Shiny," the average-sized woman with plain, shoulder-length brown hair and similarly-plain brown eyes stretched and pried herself off the couch. She then yawned and wandered in the general direction of the cargo bay.

Jayne was slightly puzzled at her blasé behavior, and it showed on his face. Tai Lin, Bo's husband, saw the expression and chuckled. "Don't let her get to you, Zhu Cobb – Akira's always been that way. I swear we could be in the middle of crashing into the tallest spires of Londinium's capital, and she'd _still_ be just as relaxed about it."

"Hah!" Eth O'Ryan interjected. "More like she'd be _sleepin'_ through it!"

Keegan laughed in total agreement with his twin, and Bo nodded. "She is… preternaturally calm in most situations," she said.

"Amen ta that!" Fish agreed.

Jayne ignored the commentary and headed back up to the galley to check on the status of his thermite-ball.

宁静

An hour after Kaylee's minor and easily-repairable sabotage to Serenity's containment field, Mal sent the distress call that was sure to be intercepted by their unwelcome pursuers. Zoë was already waiting in Shuttle Two while Wash carefully maneuvered Serenity to park on the large 'ballstroid' in the God's Jacks cluster. Jayne and Akira were all suited up, save for their gloves and helmets. The spare carbon dioxide scrubbers from two of the spare suits had already been moved to a box in the shuttle. Akira picked up her helmet and headed into the waiting shuttle. Jayne followed her example, but stopped just outside the door, his pulse trying to ratchet its way into higher registers.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing for a moment. _Been over fifteen years now. Ya'd think it wouldn't bother me no more._ Swallowing hard, he pushed aside the memories and stepped into the shuttle, closing the doors behind him. Immediately, the walls felt like they were beginning to close in. _Weren't this bad last time_. He seated himself on the bench along the starboard wall; Zoë already knew where they were headed, so he needn't bother telling her. Akira glanced at him, then shifted her focus to watch out the windows.

It was only about five minutes to their destination – one of the arms of the X-shaped asteroid he'd pointed out to Wash. If they could get a second thermite-ball readied in time, the backup team would join them on the X-arm just across the way. _Last time, was just a quick in-an'-out, though. Weren't like this, weren't _movin'_. An' bein' in 'Nara's weren't such a problem. Hers didn't look like no gorram shuttle. Wi' that curtain 'cross the cockpit area, couldn't even see it none. Weren't like this._ He wrenched his thoughts away from it and busied himself by locking his gloves into place. With his gloves in position, he made the mistake of glancing up.

"_Gorram it, Molly, jus' get us offa this muqin gaisi de rock!" _(4)

_Their shuttle shook, throwing him across the interior. Luckily, he didn't manage to break anything, but his back was sure to sport some colorful bruises, assuming he lived that long. Molly didn't say anything, just lifted them with a less-than-graceful jerk of the controls, her lips pressed into a tight white line._

_They broke atmo at a fair clip above safe speeds, but though the shuttle shivered and shook, it held together. Until the harpoon speared its way through the port wall, just inches from Jayne's head. "Ta made!" he scrambled back. "They got us!"_

"Jayne!" Zoë's voice broke through the haze of memory.

He snapped his head around to meet her eyes. "What?"

"We're here," she replied, gesturing out the shuttle's windows.

Jayne glanced around and saw that Akira already had her helmet secured into place and was standing by the airlock with the box containing their remote-controlled, jet-powered thermite-ball and its controller. He stood, purposefully not looking at the walls of the shuttle, and secured his own helmet, then grabbed the laser rifle. Since the shuttle airlock was extraordinarily small, he gestured for Akira to go first. _Much as I hate ruttin' shuttles, think I hate EVA just as bad. So much goushi ta go wrong._ Once the lock cycled, he wedged himself into the cramped space and joined Akira on the asteroid's surface.

_Nothin' ta do now but wait._

宁静

Three hours later, the secondary team settled into position on the opposing arm of the asteroid. Not ten minutes after Hu and Brace settled into their spots, Wash's voice crackled over the comm-link. "Guys, we got company," he said, then gave the coordinates for locating objects in space. Jayne hit a button on his suit to switch his visor over to a pair of digital binoculars. He could just _barely_ make out the thinnest sliver of ship moving closer and closer to their position. "Whatever they're running," Wash continued, "it's faster than anything I've ever seen before. Should be within range in about half an hour."

"Copy," Hu's voice replied.

"Seconded," Jayne said, "an' here's hopin' they're who we're after."

"I'm in no doubt on that, Jayne – the computer won't pull up the details on her profile," Wash was speaking about the radar-profile. "Keeps giving me 'classified' when I ask it."

"Definitely a Whirlwind," all four of the Guildsmen's voices overlapped.

"When you guys get back, you're gonna hafta tell me how it is you know so much about it, then," Wash said. "For now, though, I would think silence is, to use my sainted mother's words, golden."

"Copy that, goin' silent," Jayne hit the button to switch off communications to the ship, but left the channel to both shuttles and the rest of the EVAing mercs open.

"Ditto," Hu's voice crackled.

Jayne went back to watching the sliver of ship growing incrementally bigger through his visor's viewfinder. Once it was close to three times the size it had been, he heard breathing and looked down to see Akira had laid a hand on his arm. "They gotta be runnin' at close to relativistic speeds," she said on the suit-to-suit link.

"Heard me sommat 'bout that, oh, ten years ago. Guild got hired ta guard the testin' facility. Last I heard, they'd managed reliable speeds upwards of half o'the speed o'light." Jayne wished there were some reliable way to judge distances in the black without the aid of a computer, just to see if the approaching vehicle really was going as fast as Akira seemed to think.

He waved Akira's hand off his arm and said, "Try not ta hit the engines," over the comm. "Think Kaylee'll wanna take a good long look at 'em."

"Copy," Hu replied.

It wasn't much longer before the ship was close enough to see without magnification. A minute or so later, and Jayne could see it beginning to slow down as the forward retros fired. They burned with an odd greenish light; it was something he'd never seen before. "They're in range," Penn's voice shattered the curiosity about the strange color.

"Send 'em out," Jayne ordered.

Akira picked the six-inch ball of layered glue and thermite out of the box. It was wearing a 'belt' of sorts, three small bottles of compressed carbon dioxide were taped to it, and a glob of no-set, quick-dry glue made a 'nosecone' – the glue was specially designed not to set unless compressed outside of its bottle and would remain in its gelatinous state even in space. The female Qianfeng tracker threw the thermite with all her might, bracing herself against the side of the shuttle. It spiraled out of the very weak gravity of the asteroid. She then scooped up the remote control and turned it on.

Jayne switched back over to magnified-view to track the ball's progress as he readied the laser rifle. The ball slowly hissed its silent way across the vacuum, on a direct collision course with the Whirlwind. Jayne smirked. _Don't matter how good their scanners are. Nothin' 'at size's gonna register as a danger._

It was far enough away now that Jayne's magnified view could also track the second ball from the other team. The Whirlwind's retros cut out and drifted ever-closer to the thermite.

Five agonizingly slow minutes later, the first ball hit the needlelike protrusion on the bow of the ship. Half a minute later, the second adhered itself to the ship's mirrored windows. Jayne brought the rifle up, upped the magnification of his viewer, and aimed. He fired. There was no doubt that the rifle hit its mark – exceedingly bright white light flared, flickered, then surged. Jayne watched, somewhat fascinated, as the weapons array of the Whirlwind melted in the extreme heat from the thermite. A second flare of white dragged his attention to the ball on the ship's windows. That one only burned for about two seconds before the ship suffered explosive decompression. A pair of bodies were flung into space, illuminated by the freewheeling ball of burning thermite.

"Threat neutralized," Hu's voice crackled over the comm-link on the channel back to Serenity.

"Definitely," Jayne agreed, over-enunciating the word. "Let's pack it in, folks," he said. "Get the cargo bay secured. I think it's small enough ta fit. We can see what-all they got aboard. Somethin' might come in handy later."

After confirmation on the plan to salvage the now-defunct Whirlwind, Jayne turned around and closed his eyes. _Hate ruttin' shuttles._ Opening his eyes, he gazed out at the black, star-spattered sky. _Yep. Hate 'em more than EVA._ After Akira cycled the lock, he took a deep breath and returned to the interior of the shuttle. _Definitely hate 'em more._

He took care to focus on his breathing and keep his eyes closed on the trip back to Serenity. It was enough to keep the memories from overwhelming him. Barely.

* * *

**A/N2:** Again, the degrees mentioned by the Robaks in this chapter were in Celsius, not Fahrenheit. So, with that in mind, for those of us who _don't _use the Celsius scale in our daily lives: 700° C is just shy of 1300° F, 650° C is roughly 1200° F, 3100° C is about 5600° F.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Fengkuang de dao huiwuzhe fengzi_ – 'insane knife wielding maniac', translation by Google.

2.) _Fengle goushi_ – 'crazy crap', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

3.) _Shi de, xiansheng_ – 'yes sir', translation by Google.

4.) _Muqin gaisi de_ – 'mother-fucking', translation by Google.


	15. Zoë

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **This chapter was hard to write.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Fifteen: Zoë_

Jayne was waiting at the door while Zoë docked the shuttle. He'd already mostly-stripped out of his bright yellow EVA suit, though Serenity's second-in-command figured it was likely more to have something to _do_ than for any other reason. It hadn't escaped her attention that the man was behaving in a rather uncharacteristic jittery manner, and had been doing so ever since she'd joined the rest of the crew at the galley table while Mal outlined their plan to rid themselves of their unwanted pursuers.

When the little beeping noise indicated the seal was secured, Jayne wrenched open the door and all but bolted from the shuttle. "See to it that the unused CO-two scrubbers are returned to the captain," Zoë ordered Akira. She hurried after Jayne, intent on getting some answers, without bothering to wait for a reply from the mercenary-woman.

Jayne's EVA suit was hung haphazardly in the box, Mal blinking at it with a slightly confused expression on his face. He noticed Zoë's approach. "Ya wanna tell me why Jayne just took off like he had reavers nippin' at his heels? Thought it all went smooth, for a change."

"It did, sir," Zoë paused to reply. "And as for Jayne… I intend to find out."

Mal nodded and returned to getting the suits back in order as Zoë strode past. He knew better than to argue with that particular steely expression on his second's face. "Wish ya luck on that," he muttered, straightening Jayne's suit and setting the helmet for it on the shelf above.

Zoë headed first for the galley, but found only Kaylee and the Robaks – and Simon, oddly enough – laughing over some story the mechanic was telling regarding an automatic horse-trough she'd tried to build when she'd been ten. She ignored them in favor of heading for the crew corridor. The hatch for Jayne's bunk was open and the unmistakable sound of retching emanated from it.

The proportions of confusion and anger she'd felt at Jayne's atypical behavior inverted themselves, with confusion taking the lead in a rough six-to-one ratio. She looked down the ladder and saw Jayne's gun belt abandoned at the foot, spread across his boots, which still sported the handles of two of his blades protruding from the side-sheaths. Her anger at the man – that his jitters might have caused unnecessary problems – evaporated, replaced by concern; she'd seen him take care of his weapons while bleeding freely from a stab wound, seen him insist that 'Boo' be stripped and cleaned while too concussed to do it himself. The fact that he'd simply left them where they fell…

"Jayne? You alright?" she unknowingly used the same tone she'd last used when Wash had been sick.

Up on the bridge, Wash's 'Zoë-sense' heard her and it tripped his own curiosity. Knowing they were going to remain parked on the asteroid for at least a couple of more hours while the cargo hold was rearranged to accommodate the tiny slip of a ship, he quietly got up from his console and wandered to the hatchway.

The only answer Zoë received was another harsh grating of revisiting lunch. _And probably breakfast, too,_ she thought. "I'm coming down, Jayne," she said, then matched actions to words and descended into the man's bunk. A quick glance around revealed that he was, as his weapons-care would indicate, far from messy, though she wasn't at all surprised by the collages of nudie-pics taped to his walls.

Up in the corridor, Wash silently slipped over to the open hatch.

Zoë carefully stepped over his boots and gun belt, then paused. She knelt and picked up the belt, then removed the hunting knife and stiletto from his boots. Zoë sat them all on his desk then faced Jayne. He was stripped to his boxers, his cargos and t-shirt tossed over the back of his chair, but still wore a pair of holsters on his arms. His skin was glossy with sweat, and even in the hunched over position he was in, she could see he was shaking.

_Had I not seen him kill before, I'd assume this was simple combat-stress. Saw enough of it in the war… But I have seen him kill. Most of the time, cheerfully. He's never had this kind of reaction before. Closest I've ever seen is… Mal's right – the only time Jayne ever gets remotely like this, like he's been all day, has been when reavers were involved._

Jayne's retching seemed to be slowing some. Zoë grabbed the blanket off his bunk. "Jayne? I'm thinking you should lie down," she knew better than to try to approach him quietly, not when he still had weapons at hand. She draped the blanket around his shoulders, then froze when he grabbed her wrist.

She relaxed some when he spoke, his voice harsher than normal. "Got a bottle, bottom drawer o'my desk."

_Good sign – he knows where he is. What the hell happened to him?_ Zoë backed up until her butt hit the edge of his desk, then she knelt and quickly rummaged in the drawer. She came up with two bottles, either of which could have been the one Jayne was after; one was a bottle of pink bismuth, the other an expensive bottle of twelve-year-old scotch.

"That pink crap," Jayne clarified, his back still to her.

She closed the drawer and sat the scotch on the desk's surface in a loop of belt, then handed Jayne the triangular-shaped plastic bottle. "You a reader now, too?"

He took it with a shake of his head. "Nah, just recalled what else I keep in there," he said, twisting off the cap. He took a long glug of the medication, then put the cap back on and handed it to Zoë while elbowing the head closed. "Ain't had it hit me this hard in longer 'an I care ta 'member." Jayne knew why Zoë had followed him. He didn't much like it, but he couldn't help but remember what River had said, '_You should talk to Zoë... She'd understand…_'

"What hit you?" Zoë asked.

"That gorram shuttle," he replied, pulling the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. "Seem ta recall tellin' ya, way back when y'all jus' hired me, 'at I don't like shuttles none." The lower half of his left leg poked out from the gap in the blanket and his fingers traced the faded outline of an old scar. It was perfectly straight, centered exactly along the midline of his shin, arching up over his knee, and terminating at an equally straight line circling his left ankle.

"What happened?" Zoë asked the question quietly, not altogether certain she really wanted to know, but further knowing that Jayne needed to talk about it. His reaction wouldn't have been nearly so bad if he'd done so previously. _Besides, I recognize a graft-scar when I see one. I expect it's why, no matter how hot the planet we visit is, he never but _never_ wears shorts._

"Hand me 'at other bottle," he requested. Zoë handed over the scotch. Jayne uncorked it and took a slow sip straight out of the bottle, savoring the burn of the alcohol on the abused tissues of his throat. He offered it to her, but she shook her head. The man recorked the bottle and sat it on the floor next to him. His fingers returned to tracing the skin-graft scars on his leg. "Don't pass this along, 'cause ain't nobody not wearin' Gold Bands knows, but there's four ranks ta the Gold Bands in the Guild. Them what's just got 'em's called renshi. Jus' above 'em come kyoshi, an' ta get a kyoshi rank, ya gotta lead a comp'ny fer at least ten successful missions – an' what we call 'successful' means 'at _everyone_ comes back alive. Next ya got hanshi, an' ta reach hanshi, there gotta be at least twenty successful missions wi' ya as the commander. Above hanshi's just the admin, the hanshisei, an' ya can't 'win' hanshisei, ya only get it by bein' made director of a Hall."

He took another swig of the scotch and again offered it to Zoë. She debated, then decided one sip wasn't going to be any harm. She took a seat on the floor next to Jayne's desk, and directly across from him. She slid the bottle back over to him.

Jayne caught it with his feet. "I made renshi at eighteen, hit kyoshi six months later, an' less 'an a year after _that_, I made hanshi. Part o'why any o'the Gold Band Guildsmen what meets me is gonna be a pain in the ass – I made hanshi afore I was twenty. Average is right about thirty or so. Some don't never make it ta hanshi." He blinked. "Hell, _most_ never make it ta hanshi; Guild mercs may live longer 'an freelancers, but we still ain't got what anybody'd call an easy life."

He reached to pick up the bottle again, but paused, suddenly realizing he was still wearing his bracers with the shuriken and throwing spikes. He unlatched the spikes, continuing his story. "Done nearly six hunnert missions, fer more 'an five hunnert contracts in the last thirty years. Lead more 'an fifty successful ones as commander afore I turned twenty-five. By then, I think – no, I _know_ I thought I was unbeatable. _Fifty_ successful missions, outta a total o'fifty-two. The first mission I ever went on as commander, a fresh renshi… It weren't all that great, but we only lost Hass, an' it were just as much his own damn fault as it were mine."

"The second?"

Jayne unsnapped his shuriken and tossed it onto his bed before reaching for the scotch. Another bracing sip later, and he continued. "M'last. Lost m'whole comp'ny. Lead a group o'skirmishers, like the Qianfeng. Called ourselves the Hong Long. Typical skirmisher comp'ny – had a three-man team fer explosives, two sniper-teams, two trackers, m'second, an interrogator, a comms specialist, intelligence officer, an' a medic. Got hired by Blue Sun last time they stirred up 'at sanci zuzhou wuyong gou shi fengbao on Ita…" he trailed off, his eyes focusing on long-ago memories. (1)

"What happened on Ita?"

Jayne wrenched himself back to the present. "Anne Ely was the first. She an' m'other explosives runners were out layin' mines on Kepler's main access road ta their timber-line. Comin' back, she an' Penny Artwhistle an' Tony Sterling happened on someone else's mine. Tony was pretty sure it were a 'Het, least ten years old or so. Anne took the brunt o'it in her gut. Lived long 'nough ta get back ta the cabin, but weren't nothin' Dog Reyes – our medic – coulda done for 'er."

He picked up the bottle, but didn't take another drink. Instead he picked idly at the label. "Ruby Snider an' Opal Yun were one o'my sniper-teams. All but married, them two was, an' had been t'gether since they was in greens. Ruby got snatched out on a supply-run by whoever Kepler'd hired. Know they'd gone fer freelancers back then. Iffen they'd shelled out the coin fer Guild, we'd'a known 'bout it. They sent her back ta us over the course o'a week."

Zoë winced. Jayne nodded at her. "Opal… She never were the same after. We managed ta grab one o'theirs, an' even got us a name fer the hundan what caused it, but we never could find 'im, not then."

"So you found him eventually?"

"Yep. Took a fair bit o'doin, but that hundan's dead," Jayne replied. He didn't go into the fact that it had taken close to ten years to track him down, and a further year of maneuvering to get a spot on his crew to open up before Jayne could hire on. And once there, it took another six months before they'd been a position where Jayne could kill him without suspicion. He further didn't mention that the man hadn't died as he originally thought – Stitch Hessian had survived a five-hundred foot fall, only to finally meet his end at the end of Jayne's fists only a few short months ago.

He quit picking at the label and stared at the contents of the half-empty bottle. Jayne cleared his throat. "Anyway, few weeks after Ruby died, we got word 'at the Kepler CEO was gonna be visitin' – some gorram publicity stunt ta lull their workers inta thinkin' things weren't so bad as rumor had it. Our orders were ta kill 'im, publicly. We did. 'Twas jus' me, Molly Raybie – one o'my trackers, but who could also pilot – an' Bill'n'Matt Koster – m'other sniper team, an' brothers like the Robaks. We hit the CEO, then headed up ta one o'Blue Sun's company towns ta waste a li'l time in case we was followed. Had ta get some supplies anyway, 'cause I weren't lettin' _no one_ go ta town alone after what happened wi' Ruby."

Pausing, he uncorked the bottle again and took another drink. He recorked it, then rolled it over to Zoë. "Help yerself, but iffen ya don't want none, put it away, will ya?"

Zoë helped herself to another small sip of the smoky liquid, then returned the bottle to its place in Jayne's desk. "What happened while you were in town?"

Jayne sighed. "Molly run up ta me, panicky in a way I ain't never seen her afore. She'd been on a wave wi' Kit Scopa, my intelligence officer, when the feed cut off mid-word. Weren't no hiccup wi' the system, neither. We gathered up Bill'n'Matt an' high-tailed it back ta the cabin." He closed his eyes. "Didn't find much on gettin' back – jus' a smokin' crater an' enough shrapnel ta know we got hit by a Shen Chui missile. Only one o'my comp'ny left what we could recognize were m'second, Foster Maczko. Mac were out checkin' our perimeter when it hit, close as I can figure. Threw 'im near on two hunnert feet inta the forest. He got wrapped 'round a tree an' died about two hours after we found 'im." (2)

Zoë noticed that without the bottle handy, Jayne's fingers were once more absently tracing the skin-graft scars on his left leg. The man didn't seem to realize what he was doing, though. He opened his eyes and stared at a spot a shade over Zoë's right shoulder. "We buried what we could find once it stopped smokin', all in one grave, save fer Mac. Wi' the dead takin' care of, me, Bill, Matt, an' Molly piled back inta the shuttle an' headed fer our backup hidey-hole – a cave on the far side o'the moon, high up in the mountains. Waved back ta the Guild, let 'em know we'd suffered heavy losses, an' would need a pickup, gave 'em the coordinates fer our hideaway. Turned out that was a dumbass move."

His fingers quit tracing the scars and started scratching lightly at them. "At the time, were only Jiangyin an' a handful o'blackrocks on that side o'the system. The rest o'the Rim worlds were clustered on the far side o'the sun. Think 'at's why we saw 'em so far in, not 'at none o'us had any idea what they was at the time. Looked back on it since, an' I'm pretty sure what happened ta us was pro'ly one o'the first attacks."

He jerked his gaze back to meeting Zoë's eyes. "We got ta our hidey-hole wi' no problems. Parked the shuttle, camo'd it under some brush, an' set up in this li'l cave. Was there a week. Extraction was gonna take close on ta two months wi' as far away from anythin' we were."

"Why only a week?" Zoë was pretty sure she knew what Jayne was going to say, but he needed to get it off his chest.

"Didn't know what they was at the time. Ain't none of us had heard o'reavers afore. Lookin' back, I can say we was lucky it were only a small scoutin' ship what found us," Jayne said, his voice flat and his eyes distant. "They got Bill an' Matt right away. They was outside, checkin' snares. Sound o'their ship's what got me an' Molly outside. Weren't a damn thing either of us could do ta help. A pair o'them caught sight of us on the ridge, let out this damn screechin' yowl like a…" he groped for the words, then shrugged. "Anyways, it made the hair on m'neck stand up straight. I had ta shove Molly near on hard 'nough ta push 'er offa the damn mountain afore she got her feet workin'. We ran like fuckin' demons was on our tails fer the shuttle. Got in, an' I tol' Molly ta get us offa that gorram rock. Was thinkin' we might be able ta hit Darwin or Matthews or even Jiangyin herself. Lackin' fuel ta get 'at far, I figured we could at least hitch a ride on a passin' transport or some such."

Zoë nodded, "Sensible, even though you didn't know for sure what you were dealing with at the time."

"Didn't work," Jayne replied. "We barely managed ta break atmo afore we got speared by one o'their harpoons," his voice was now barely a whisper. "They was reelin' us in, like we was a river trout in a fly-fishin' contest, all careful-like. Didn't wanna tear our hull – dead folks ain't near 'nough fun fer them zai ren de pifu de emo. We'd seen what they done ta Matt an' Bill. Dunno iffen Molly realized they had more o'the same in mind fer us, but I did. Only had Boo wi' me an' no reloads. Six rounds weren't gonna be 'nough ta take out all o'em; we'd counted near on a full dozen, wi' at least two more on-ship when they showed." (3)

He swallowed hard and his fingers quit scratching at the scars. He pulled his knees tight against his chest and laid his forehead across them. "They'd jus' pulled us inta their airlock. I was lookin' from Boo ta Molly, an' back. I took too long tryin' ta do what I shoulda jus' done on Ita. Only consolation I got's 'at I made damn sure Molly didn't suffer none afore they boarded us an' knocked m'gun outta m'hand." The words might have been muffled, but they were still perfectly clear.

"Wo de ma," Zoë breathed. "How'd you survive?" (4)

Jayne shook his head. "Don't rightly know fer sure, Zoë. Don't 'member a whole helluva lot 'bout what followed. Fightin' some. Bleedin' more 'an I shoulda an' been still breathin'. Think I mighta wound up goin' ta the same place where they always live," a shiver raced through him. "All I really know fer sure is what they tol' me when I woke up back at Balanced Sun: I landed a tore-up Trans-U in the middle o'the archery range. They counted fifteen dead aboard, not countin' Molly. I'd been _skinned_ down m'left leg, had eight broken ribs, an' nearly lost m'right arm ta an infected slash what'd taken close ta a hunnert stitches ta close." Zoë didn't recall ever seeing such an impressive scar on the merc's arm, but considering the graft-scars on his leg were barely visible, she figured he'd probably had a highly-skilled surgeon and possibly even had the scar removed. "Also wound up wi' a broken hand," Jayne continued speaking to his knees. "'Pparently, they had ta break it ta get me ta let go o'Boo."

_I think that's taking the saying 'you'll have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead hands' a shade too literal._ She knew better than to say it out loud, though. _Not now, at any rate. Maybe when he's not so close to the edge._ Zoë slowly stood and stepped over to Jayne. Carefully, she laid a hand on his shoulder. "You should try and get some sleep," she said. "If you'd like, I can get Simon to give you something to help."

Jayne looked up at her. "Fuck, no! 'At shit makes it so's I can't wake up iffen it gets too bad."

"Okay," she replied, taking care to keep her voice low and soothing. "No smoother. Still don't think you ought to be crouching on the floor, though."

Jayne allowed her to help him into a standing position, then clung to the wall as the room rocked around him. _Per'aps booze on an empty stomach weren't such a good idea,_ he thought while watching Zoë move his bracers off his bed and onto his desk. Clutching the blanket, he half-fell, half-crawled into his bunk. Bunching his pillow up, he looked over his shoulder at Zoë. "Hey, Zoë?"

She paused at the foot of the ladder. "Yeah?"

"You ain't… I mean…" he sighed. _Fuck it. She can tell whoever she wants ta._ "Thanks," he said instead, not entirely certain why he said it.

"Any time," she replied. "Get some sleep. If anyone asks, I'll just let them know you're feeling a little under the weather. And before you ask, I'll even make sure Simon stays away – I'll tell him you promised to see him if you didn't feel better tomorrow."

"Tell Tora, too – she's more likely ta come lookin'."

Zoë nodded. "Will do. Good night, Jayne." She waited until his eyes closed, then hit the controls to lower the lighting to standby before heading up the ladder. She found Wash sitting next to the ladder. "I take it you heard all that?"

Wash nodded. "I did," he admitted, an expression on his face that revealed the combined horror and sympathy he was feeling. "I had no idea…"

"None of us did," Zoë replied. "It's…"

"A lot to take in," Wash supplied. "And I'm pretty sure he doesn't want it spread around, else we'd all know the story."

"Ain't the kind of story anyone would want to tell," she said, holding out a hand to her husband.

Wash took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. "Come sit with me?" he asked, not wanting to be alone.

Zoë and Wash walked arm-in-arm up to the cockpit, lost in their own thoughts on Serenity's resident gun hand.

* * *

**A/N2:** I hope I made it clear that the flashback Jayne suffered in the shuttle took place about a full week after the preceding memory/dream wherein he, Molly, Bill, and Matt spotted the smoke in the forest. Let me know if I need to clarify any further. Thanks in advance.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Sanci zuzhou wuyong gou shi fengbao_ – 'thrice damned useless shitstorm', translation by Google.

2.) _Shen Chui_ – 'Hammer of God', translation by Google.

3.) _Zai ren de pifu de emo_ – 'demons in men's skin', translation by Google.

4.) _Wo de ma_ – 'mother of god', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.


	16. Outside, Looking In

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **This woulda been out a mite quicker, but I managed to land myself with a head-cold. It's hard to listen to the muse when I can't stop sneezing.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Sixteen: Outside, Looking In_

With a mission to think on and worry about and prepare for, the whirling chaos of fifteen strangers died down to three storms of inwardly-directed energy: A mid-sized coal, the intense purple-blue of electricity passing through xenon, of creative preparations. A great bonfire of glowing red neon of inability-to-help-caused worry. And the smallest storm, the soothing blue argon shades of certainty. It amused her, the sources of the three colors, for not all were emanating from the minds she would have expected.

Bundled amongst the worriers, putting out red spikes that all but glowed by themselves, were most of the mercenaries. The majority of their worry, however, was simple knowledge that no matter how well-planned, things had a habit of going wrong at inopportune moments. The brothers who were entertaining and educating Kaylee, as well as those who were piecing together the R/C units, bathed in xenon purples. And while Jayne glowed faintly in tones of argon, the blue light emitted by the mercenary commander was far brighter; the faith he had in Zhu Cobb was absolute.

Those were the expected colors.

What was unexpected was the fact that Simon kept flickering between the pale pink disbelief of helium and argon blue. The flickers of helium pink came further and further apart as the day wore on and Simon was allowed the rare gift of seeing how wrong his knee-jerk definition of the word 'mercenary' was, with regards to anyone tied to the Guild. Slowly, he was even managing to apply this newfound knowledge to Serenity's own hired gun, though he retained the oily banana flavor to his thoughts which indicated he still couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. _It will get better,_ River thought at her brother, _you will acclimatize to your new perceptions, and later, you will even laugh at yourself for having fallen for his mask._

What was unexpected was the similar steady argon glow coming from Zoë. It wasn't as bright as the light being broadcast by Zhu Hu, but it didn't flicker. Unlike Hu's light, hers wasn't rooted in faith in Jayne – she was unaware that their plan of action had been solely the big man's idea – but in knowing a good battle-strategy when she heard it. _And yet the warrior-woman will not be surprised to learn the plan was Jayne's,_ River's thoughts reached out to tug lightly at Zoë's light. _She is far more malleable in her beliefs than just about anyone else on Serenity; she has seen too much of the 'verse to cling to outmoded and obsolete impressions. Much of this flexibility has to do with Wash. She hated him on-sight. Yet, now she cannot imagine life without him in her bed or in her heart._

What was unexpected was the steady krypton white coming from the captain. It was neither doubt nor worry, neither creativity nor faith which lit him from within. It was simpler than any of that; he trusted his crew. He trusted them to know what they were doing, even when he wasn't right there and hovering over their shoulders. He trusted them to come right out and tell him when they thought a plan wasn't all that it could be; they always had before. He trusted them to know their own limitations and he trusted their judgment. _You even trust Jayne, though you would be quick to say otherwise. Your first meeting with him left a mark that time alone hadn't been able to erase, though his actions – even his actions on Ariel – have time and again scrubbed at that doubt. Meeting his fellows has been the solvent needed to erase that first mark of distrust. By seeing him as he was meant to be seen, you are finally seeing past who he has needed to become in order to survive without his brothers and sisters at his side. _

River's stomachache finally quieted enough that she felt she could climb out of Kaylee's hammock without fear of vomiting. She followed the traces of Mal's whiteness until she located its source. She watched from the catwalk as he examined the space-suits. _Your mind now sees him in colors painted with the brush of a former soldier. Some part of you recognizes him for what he is, for you see it every day, staring back at you from the other side of the mirror. You comprehend its source, though you don't understand it: you've seen how the Qianfeng interact with him, you've seen how he acted at the Hall. You know he doesn't truly _belong_ on Serenity, that he belongs among his own kind. Yet you further know he is right where he _wants_ to be. That he's got his own version of Serenity Valley lurking in his past, and that in order to deal with it, he's done precisely the exact same thing you yourself have done. You've run away. From responsibility, from expectations, from everything you know. You comprehend this all, yet you don't truly understand it. You probably will never truly understand it at all, not unless you manage to admit you find him confusing._

She watched in silence as Jayne arrived, the woman from the Qianfeng at his side, and wriggled into his yellow suit. The blue light from earlier was even dimmer now, as ultraviolet streaks of doubt and memory and fear threatened to drown it entirely. She saw him pause outside the shuttle, incandescent in invisible violet light, before he abruptly shoved it all aside and ducked into the vehicle.

_Wholly intact brain or not – how can someone feel so strongly about something, yet still be able to push it aside in favor of confronting that fear, head-on?_ River silently rose from her seat on the catwalk and drifted down the stairs. Mal wasn't the only one confused by Jayne. She eventually made her way to her room, musing on the nature of expectations versus reality and trying to fit a half-formed idea concerning reflected or inverted assumptions into and around projective personality.

By the time she felt the slight rocking motion of the ship indicating the shuttle's return, she was no closer to finding a way to articulate her thoughts, but had managed to draw a stunningly pretty picture: It depicted a sandy cove, bearing no small resemblance to a favorite vacation spot of her mother's on the coastline of Osiris, but lacking in modern amenities. The only man-made structure visible was an impressive breakwater, sheltering the ovoid lagoon from decidedly stormy seas.

"He is a breakwater," she murmured. "Others' minds, their emotions – even crashing tidal forces of now-not-yet-here – he keeps them under control. Eroding himself to protect the more fragile bits behind him."

The ship rocked again as the second shuttle returned.

Curious, she poked her head into the common area. The gathered mercenaries were laughing and joking and she knew that it was only the nauseating drugs Simon had forced into her that kept her from being overwhelmed by their relief and joy at the conclusion of a successful endeavor. Unwilling to risk being caught in the open when the drugs finally wore off, she retreated back into her room.

Closing her eyes, she could see the previous centers of focus for all the people crowded onto Serenity had dissipated, returning them to their kaleidoscope of individuality. Friendly bickering over what movie to watch next pooled in the common area, the flavor of camaraderie removing any sting from insults thrown. Smug rained in the cargo bay as a handful of people worked together to shift and secure things for exposure to vacuum. Waves of humor crashed amid the pots and pans of the galley.

Three tiny sparks were still radiating the same colors as earlier, however. Mal's white krypton glow of trust had only dimmed somewhat in the face of atypical behavior witnessed on the merc's return to the ship, though it brightened when caressed by the steadfast certainty of Zoë's blueness. Her certainty was no longer rooted to recognition of a good plan, but to her ever-present knowledge of her own abilities; she knew she would get to the bottom of Jayne's oddness, even if she had to shoot him. The last little spark still radiating shades of electrified noble elements was Wash. His neon worry would not fade until he saw his wife.

Even as she saw it, Wash's worry dimmed. Zoë was fine. But it sparkled slightly, shifted and spun, and grew bright once more. _A new focus._ Knowing there could only really be one other focus for the pilot's fretting at this point in time, River let herself fall into the patterned breathing Jayne had taught her only a couple of short days ago.

宁静

Tai Lin waited for a break in the laughing conversation among the Robaks, the ship's mechanic, and Serenity's medic before speaking. "Pardon the interruption, but may I borrow the doctor?"

Simon looked up, immediately concerned. "What is it? Did something happen with River?"

Tai shook his head. "Fret not, your sister is – the last I saw her – hale and healthy. However, in helping to maneuver the things down in the cargo bay, Tora has suffered a minor accident and would be grateful for some assistance." At the concerned looks from his fellow mercenaries, Tai clarified, "It is nothing major – a slight scalp-wound – but it is in an awkward place to stitch herself." The Robaks relaxed.

Simon nodded, mostly to himself, then said, "If you will all excuse me," as he rose from the table and followed Tai down to the infirmary.

Tora was already sitting on the exam table – which was lowered to nearly floor-level – holding a gauze-wrapped cold pack to the right side of her head. Bo fluttered around her, brushing the much-taller woman's long red hair out of the way, then securing it in place with numerous rubber bands. The mercenary medic glanced up at the sound of Simon's and Tai's footsteps and grinned. "Hey, doc. Fancy meetin' you here."

"I heard you might be in need of my services," Simon replied, ignoring her flirtatious nature.

Her grin morphed into a small self-depreciating little smile. "Might be right at that," she said. "Was helpin' lock down a stack of crates under the catwalk. Forgot how high up I was and managed to crack myself a good one on the supports."

Bo finished securing Tora's hair out of the way as Simon pulled a stool over and raised the table to a better height. "Let's see what you've done to yourself," Simon said, pulling an examination light over Tora's head.

Bo and Tai faded quietly out of the room while Tora removed the bloodstained gauze and icepack from the wound. "Ain't too bad," she said. "No concussion. If it'd been anywhere else on me, I'd've just slapped a weave on it and called it good, but the last thing I need's a ropy scar on my scalp – would tend to catch my hairbrush."

Even though the split in her scalp was still bleeding, Simon was in agreement with her. It wasn't so horribly bad, though it could do with some help in keeping closed until it healed. "Go ahead and put the gauze back on," he said, getting to his feet. He headed for the cupboards and began collecting the supplies he'd need.

"I figure it'd take about six, maybe eight, stitches," Tora said, replacing the cold pack.

"Normally, I'd agree," Simon replied, laying out the supplies he'd grabbed on a tray, then heading to the sink to wash his hands. "But I've never been overly fond of stitches on one's scalp. As you said with regards to a scar, the stitches themselves would catch on a hairbrush, and could quite possibly wind up resulting in a worse wound."

"Unless you shaved the area," Tora argued, though Simon could tell that she would much prefer just about anything else.

He nodded, "Unless I shaved the area. However, I don't believe you would allow me within ten feet of you with a set of hair clippers – and that's assuming we could even locate a set on this ship."

A little tension leaked out of her. "Ain't me so much as my man back at the Hall who'd take exception to the hair-trim, doc," she said.

Finishing up at the sink, he pulled on a pair of gloves. "And the last thing _I_ need is an angry mercenary hunting me down over some hair," he joked, resuming his seat on the stool next to the table. "Which is why I suppose we're both lucky that I've got this," he held up a little tube. In large green letters written down its side were the words _butyl-cyanoacrylate_.

Tora's grin reappeared. "Didn't think you'd have that here, doc. Shit may just be prettified super glue, but it's awfully expensive."

Simon shrugged. "Wasn't too hard to come by," he said, setting it back on the tray and reaching for a syringe of local anesthetic. He didn't mention that it hadn't cost anything, that a case of it had been among the supplies gleefully looted from the hospital on Ariel. It wasn't anything the medic had any need to know. "You got any allergies?" he asked.

Tora shook her head and once again moved the gauze-wrapped icepack out of his way. "Nope." She hissed a little as Simon injected the anesthetic. "Didn't really need that, though."

"The glue stings worse than stitches, or so I've been told," Simon replied, setting down the syringe and picking up a larger one filled with saline and lacking a proper needle.

The contents of the irrigation syringe were cold, but the anesthetic had done its job. "Feels weird," Tora said.

"What does?"

"Not feelin' the cut any more, but getting the pressure and cold."

"There doesn't seem to be any grit," he peered through the magnifying glass center of his lamp.

"Bled pretty freely. Pretty sure anything that might've gotten caught in it was washed out by now."

"Likely correct," Simon replied, then picked up a small gauze bundle and dried the two-inch gash. Once dried, he removed the cap from the medical-grade glue. "Here," he held his hand out for the bloodied gauze and icepack. Tora handed them over without a word. After setting them aside, he continued, "I'll need you to keep a few stray hairs out of the way."

Tora offered her hands. "Just put 'em where you need 'em."

Simon moved her hands to just above and below the cut, securing a handful of shorter hairs not caught in Bo's bands out of the way of the glue. "Just like that," he said. "Take care not to pull."

"Don't fret, doc, I won't," Tora replied.

Simon then carefully lined the slightly jagged cut with the glue and pushed the sides together. "This is going to take a few minutes to set," he said.

"Don't bother me any," she assured him.

After a minute of only slightly uncomfortable silence, Simon noticed a small tattoo on Tora's left ring finger. It was the sideways figure-8 used to denote 'eternity'. "What's the tattoo for?" he asked.

The mercenary medic let out a throaty chuckle. "Most mercs don't wear jewelry, doc," she said it as though that explained everything.

"Duibuqi?" (1)

"It's instead of a wedding ring, Simon," she explained a little more fully. "You'll see the same tattoo in the same place on any Guildsman who's gotten hitched."

"What happens if they get divorced?"

"Doesn't happen," Tora replied. "'Leastways, it ain't happened in so long that nobody I know's ever heard about it."

"I find that hard to believe," Simon checked the status of the glue and found it still needed another minute or so to finish binding the gash.

"Disbelieve all you wanna," Tora said. "But it's true. We might be a rowdy, lusty buncha folk, but if we get to the point we're thinkin' on the 'forever and ever amen', it's serious enough not to get shaken by money-troubles or petty jealousies."

"I don't think I understand," Simon admitted.

Tora let out a small sigh. "I don't know if I can really explain it, doc," she said. "But I'll give it my best shot." She fell silent for a moment, looking for the right words. "From the second we get our Blacks, we live in constant mortal danger. We never know going in whether or not our next contract is going to result in death. Even supposedly easy assignments – say, bodyguard or some such – have resulted in more than one dead body in our rosters."

"Sounds stressful."

"It is," Tora said. "But… To compensate for that, we all – well, there's some who don't, but they're rare – all of us tend to live more for the here-and-now than regular people. We take what comfort we can, while we can, and for the most part we don't form a lot of lasting relationships outside of the Guild. And within the Guild… It's mostly familial. Sure, there's sexing, and probably more of it than's found anywhere outside a cathouse, but it's… Well, it's frowned on for Guild mercs to get all proprietary over each other. Ain't nothing about it in the official rules or nothing like that, but because of how we have to live – how any assignment we get might be our last – the general rule of thumb is to keep things from getting closer than friendship."

"If that's the case, then why…?"

"Because we're still only human, doc," Tora explained. "And humans ain't designed to live alone. If anyone in the Guild wants to marry, they gotta go through at least six sessions with a shrink. Most of the time, that's enough to get the folks involved turned off of the idea of sayin' anything even close to a forever 'I do'. But those of us who make it through that… Well," she shrugged. "Since jewelry can be used against you in a close-up fight, and since a ring can be taken off and hid, _that's_ why the tattoo. And all the counseling beforehand… Well, _that's_ why no one I know has ever heard of a married Guildsman getting divorced."

Simon checked the glue and found it was set. He let go of her scalp. "You're good to go," he said. "And I think I understand."

Tora let her hands fall to her lap and leveled a bright smile at him. "Thanks, doc."

宁静

River appeared in Jayne's mental dojo to find that it had undergone some slight shifting in the past few hours. The wall which before had consisted of an unbroken expanse of golden wood paneling – decorated only by a chalkboard – now revealed a small doorway, and try as she might, River didn't know if the doorway was a recent addition or something which had gone unnoticed in her previous visits. She walked over to it and peered around the corner.

The opening in the wall revealed a small cinderblock-lined room with a cement floor and harsh fluorescent lighting. The middle of it contained a utilitarian table and a metal folding chair. Jayne was sitting on the chair, lightly running his fingertips along the welded seams of a metal box. The box was roughly a foot tall, two feet long, and about a foot-and-a-half deep, and was the distinctive flat grey color of high-quality titanium alloy.

"What is that?" River asked, making Jayne startle slightly.

He looked up from the box and shook his head. "Nothin' good, li'l bit," he said, standing.

River rose up on tiptoe and saw white paint on the top of the box. It wasn't words or Chinese characters or even anything remotely recognizable, though she couldn't help but think the asymmetrical, jagged design was faintly familiar. Jayne moved around the table and herded her away from the door. The panel slid shut behind him, blocking the curious box from further inspection. "Ya here fer a reason?" Jayne asked.

River backed away from where the door had been. "Why is Wash worried about you?"

"Beats the hell outta me," Jayne replied. "Sure he ain't jus' worried 'bout Zoë?"

"He was, but that faded when she returned," River looked up into Jayne's eyes. For the first time since finding refuge in his mind, she lamented the lack of her reading ability while sharing his mental space. Something was bothering him, she could see it in the way his eyes creased at the corners, in the set of his mouth, in the lines on his forehead, but she had no clue what it might be. "What's wrong?"

Jayne shook his head. "Nothin' important," he said. "Jus' been a powerful lot o'bad mem'ries bein' stirred up lately." Before she could press for more information, he made a shooing motion. "How 'bout ya go find sommat else ta do fer a while, li'l bit, I need some time alone."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Will be, at any rate. Got some thinkin' ta be doin', then I'm gonna take a nap. Make sure I'm up fer supper?"

"I will," she replied. River was about to ask another question when something pushed against her – it felt like a warm pile of feathers or a slow-moving blast of air – and she suddenly found herself back in her room. Opening her eyes, she sighed. _At least that's a bit more polite than simply shouting 'get out'._ She stretched, then flopped on her stomach.

Her face wound up less than six inches from her recently-completed drawing. Almost without meaning to, she flipped to a new page in her sketchbook and started a new picture. The momentary equilibrium she gained from her foray into Jayne's mind faded fast, but not before she managed to copy down the outline of the design painted on the box she'd seen.

宁静

With her wound taken care of, Tora took a moment to set her hair free of the rubber bands, though she would need a brush to get it back into her customary braid. Once that was done, she lent a hand to Simon in getting the infirmary put back in order. While returning the glue to its place in the cabinets, she spotted a row of medications that she hadn't been expecting to see on a smuggler's vessel.

"Who's the schizophrenic?" she asked.

Simon startled, and dropped the bottle of cleaning solution he was holding. "Pardon?"

The redhead chuckled at his clumsiness, then repeated herself. "Who's the schizophrenic? Only reason to have neuroleptics like zandrin aboard."

Simon blinked at her. "Um…"

Tora, understandably, attributed his speechlessness to disbelief that she'd know what the drugs in the cabinet were for and elaborated. "Whether you wanna believe it or not, doc, I happen to have a fair bit more medical education than you do."

Simon winced. "So I've been told," he said. "But no… I'm not really that surprised you know what it's for – I was just trying to figure out how to answer the question."

"Doesn't seem like it would take that much thinking."

"Well, it does when you take into consideration that it's not exactly schizophrenia," Simon attempted an explanation that might possibly avoid naming names.

"Think it's my turn to say 'pardon'?" Tora smirked at herself. "I wasn't aware there were that many off-label uses for these," she gestured to the row of vials in the cabinet.

"There aren't, but… Call it a traumatic brain injury presenting symptoms in line with paranoid schizophrenia," Simon explained. "Those help, some, but not nearly enough."

"Hmm," the medic chewed her lip and studied the vials a little more closely before slowly closing the cabinet door. "Can I ask a question without you gettin' offended about it?"

"Depends on the question, but I'll do my best," Simon replied, stooping to pick up the dropped bottle of disinfectant.

"Why are you treating the symptoms and not the root cause of the problem?"

The doctor froze for a heartbeat, then slowly straightened and sat the disinfectant on the tray next to the exam table. "Primarily because, in this case, it was the limbic system – the amygdala, specifically – which has suffered the brunt of the injury. Aside from a regeneration clinic, which the latest information puts at _least_ six years from opening its doors to the public, I am unaware of any other treatments which might prove successful."

Tora grimaced. "In that case, I guess I can understand it. But you might want to dig a little deeper into those regen-clinics. Enough cash can buy a helluva lot, even if it is _technically_ illegal."

"I've thought about it," Simon admitted. "Believe me, I've thought about it. But something like that isn't likely to be anywhere within my price-range."

Tora made a 'you have a point' gesture and let the topic drop. However, Simon couldn't stop thinking about it. _I wonder who I'd need to contact? I know I don't have nearly enough money to deal with the same people who helped me liberate River from the Academy, but surely there has to be _someone_ out there who can put me in touch with the right people… _

* * *

**A/N2:** I really really hope this makes sense. I reiterate I've got a bit of a cold and I never claimed to be sensible when feeling less than my best.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Duibuqi_ – 'excuse me', translation by Google.


	17. Setting Up

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **A guest reviewer expressed impatience in getting to the Rayne portion of the story – though I can sympathize with their point-of-view, I feel the need to reiterate that working River and Jayne into a romantic pairing is going to take rather a lot of time (and the characters themselves, as they're whispering this story in my ear, aren't too certain they want to go that direction – this may still just wind up with them as simply friends). Though the tales wherein the pair spend a couple of paragraphs realizing their feelings for one another are changing before immediately jumping into bed together can be highly entertaining, I prefer a dose of realism in my stories, hence the rather lengthy build-up. Sorry if this disappoints anyone.

Friendly reminder: It's still June 13th, and has been since chapter 11 (which started up shortly after midnight).

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Seventeen: Setting Up_

Mal was always somewhat disconcerted by how bright it really was when working EVA; the black 'skies' always made him instinctively reach for flashlights, but unless the work was being done in shadowed places – like the inside of a derelict or on the dark side of some planet or moon – it was noontime bright, regardless of the backdrop color to the stars. That was his only real complaint, even if it could rightfully be called that, when working outside the ship. _Well, that and the fact that there are about three hundred ways to die messy when doin' EVA work._ He pushed the thought aside with the ease of long practice and went about double-checking the winch they were going to use to drag the miniscule ship aboard.

Though he'd rather have been doing this particular job with Jayne and Zoë's help, he had to admit that Hu and his people surely knew what they were doing – their confidence in near zero-gee was a sight to behold. Neither Jayne nor Zoë much enjoyed vacuum-work. The only person he'd ever met who liked it as much as he did was River. _But like Wash has said, several times, she's as like to blow us all up as she is to rub soup in our hair. But she seems to be getting a mite better these last few months, ever since that business with Early. _He finished checking the winch and his eyes followed the tether out to where Hu, with the assistance of the two younger Robak brothers, was securing the other end to the ship. _Looks more like a half-pint shuttle than a ship in its own right_.

Mal glanced at the only woman who'd volunteered – or been volunteered, he wasn't too sure of the details – for this part of the job. Akira was looking in the same basic direction as the tiny ship, but slightly to the right, where the bodies of a pair of men wearing business suits floated against the black. "Ain't right," she said over the communicator.

"What ain't right?" Mal asked.

She turned her gaze to him. "Ain't right we should leave 'em like that," she gestured to the bodies. One of Mal's eyebrows hitched higher than the other. "Don't give a laoshu de pigu if they was bad guys or not, it simply ain't right just lettin' 'em float like that." (1)

"Silverman Barr," Hu's voice came back over the comm-unit, sounding slightly exasperated.

"Shi de, xiansheng?" Akira replied. (2)

"Leave it be, Silverman Barr," Hu ordered.

Even through the bulky suit, Mal could see Akira slump a little as she repeated 'yes sir' in Chinese. Penn Brace caught sight of the confusion on Mal's face and stepped around the winch. The pair stood slightly behind Akira, who had turned back to stare out at the ship and pair of dead men. A faint pressure on Mal's arm told him the other Qianfeng on his end of the tether had activated the private suit-to-suit comm-link. "What's that about?" Mal asked.

"She came to the Guild when she was thirteen, one of only three survivors to the reaver attack of Mount Vernon, on Solace. I think it left a pretty damn big mark on her – as long as I've known her, she's been adamant about making sure we honor the dead, even if they were a liu koushui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi." (3)

Mal winced. The attack on Solace's then-largest community was one of the reaver-tales whose rumors had managed to reach just about all corners of the 'verse. The fact that the woman standing in front of him had survived it was… _It's on the same level as me meetin' someone else from Shadow, now ain't it?_ He glanced over at the free-floating dead men again. Shepherd Book's words from that salvage job they'd tried on the reaver-hit transport echoed in his head. _'How we treat our dead is part of what makes us different than those that did the slaughtering.'_ He frowned. _Even with Book not aboard no longer, he still can't leave me alone, can he?_ "Pro'ly fa biao for this, but…" he whispered to himself then ducked out from under Penn's grasp on his suit. "If you can get to 'em without unclippin' from the tether, no reason not to do what we can for 'em." (4)

Greg's laughter echoed over the comm-link. "Hell, might be 'at they's got a wad o'cashy money in their pockets."

"Or other items of a reasonably valuable nature," John added.

"Guanbi bing chongxin kaishi gongzuo," Hu sternly interrupted the brothers' banter. (5)

The Robaks mumbled a simultaneous 'yes sir' and did so. Akira asked, "Sir?"

Hu sighed through the comm. "Since it is ultimately Captain Reynolds' decision, and he has already given his permission, I see no need not to do as you think proper. Just dangxin, dong ma?" (6)

"Shi de, xiansheng," Akira replied, her manner somewhat less subdued than it had been since the six of them had begun their task.

All told, it took about three hours of careful maneuvering to get the Whirlwind secured in Serenity's cargo bay. The ship itself was only about fifteen feet long, roughly teardrop-shaped, four or five feet tall, and six feet wide at the front end. Its propulsion system was housed in the longish 'tail' of the teardrop. After it was secured to the narrow bit of empty deck between the Qianfeng practice-mats and their chem-shower on the port wall, it took a further twenty minutes for the cargo bay's air pressure to be restored. Once it became safe to remove their suits, Mal hit the comm-link to the bridge. "Everything's secured, Wash," he said. "Get us back on course."

While the ship lifted off of the 'bouncy ball' asteroid in the God's Jacks cluster, the various doors into the cargo bay opened and people boiled through. Kaylee headed immediately for the ship, wearing a small smile Mal had last seen gracing the face of a lazy old housecat. Paul – the only Robak not sporting the Guild's lightning-bolt shaped badge to indicate certification in vacuum-survival – scurried over to help his brothers out of their borrowed suits. The O'Ryan twins headed for Akira, who was standing just inside the airlock doors with the bodies of the two men from the Whirlwind at her feet. Bo and her husband, Tai, appeared and likewise headed for Akira, though they were more intent on the woman and not any potential 'prizes' to be had from looting the dead men. Simon and Tora watched from the periphery, making sure not to get in anyone's way. Zoë also did so, but her perch of choice was the landing on the fore stairs that lead to the crew-quarters corridor. Gail Clark – the Qianfeng intelligence officer who Mal thought bore a striking resemblance to the Zoë he'd first met nearly ten years earlier – and Lisette joined Kaylee in inspecting the ship itself. The Qianfeng man who'd piloted the second shuttle earlier that day – Mal was pretty sure his name was Zhang – and Fish ignored most of the goings-on and helped their commander and his second out of their suits.

Mal paused in removing his own suit. _With Wash flyin', who am I missin'?_ Zoë appeared at his elbow and helped him tug the rest of the bulky exo-suit off. "Jayne's stomach didn't much agree with the lack of gravity, sir," she said, "so he's in his bunk. And the last I saw, River was in her room, doodling in her sketchbook."

Mal nodded at her and finally managed to free himself from the EVA suit. Hanging it back where it belonged, he asked, "Who's turn is it to make supper?"

"Wash's," Zoë replied.

"Want him down here lookin' that thing over with Kaylee," Mal gestured to the Whirlwind. "How 'bout me an' you try our hand at makin' something reasonably edible?"

宁静

Once Serenity's autopilot was reengaged, directing them along the course to Jiangyin and its moons, Wash ambled down to join Kaylee and the two Qianfeng women in looking over the miniscule ship. The three girls were focusing on the ship's propulsion system for the time-being, and had managed to remove the majority of the protective housing surrounding it. "What we got?" he asked Kaylee, spotting the lightly puzzled grin on her face.

"Ain't like no other drive I've ever seen," Kaylee replied. "Its guts are all in different places."

Wash stepped around the small pile of painted-white metal sheeting and peered over Gail's shoulder. "Kinda teeny, too," he commented.

From the other side of the metal framework housing the small engine, Lisette grinned at him. "You've never heard the old saw about how size is no indication of power, have you?"

"Hold this out of the way for me, Wash," Kaylee indicated a woven-metal hoselike structure that was looped around the engine's supporting framework. Wash did so while she buried herself nearly waist-deep in the ship's 'guts'. A low whistle reverberated oddly from her half-concealed position. "Okay, ya can let go," she said, straightening up.

"What was the whistle for?" Wash asked.

"I _think_ this is an Alcubierre drive, though how they fuel it's beyond me," Kaylee replied, dropping to her rear end and scooting under the ship's tail. "If you two," she pointed at the Qianfeng women, "could get the rest o'the plating off, I'd be grateful."

"Mei-wenti," Gail replied as Lisette said, "Sure." (7)

Wash joined Kaylee in investigating the ship. "An Alcubierre drive? Really?" he sounded almost as excited as the mechanic.

Kaylee nodded. "Only thing what fits this crazy layout," she said, tracing a cluster of fiber-optic wires.

Wash frowned and looked a little harder at what he was seeing. He may not have had Kaylee's natural genius when it came to machinery, but basic engine structure and maintenance were part of the courses any pilot had to pass in order to graduate. He thought hard to pull up the small bit of information they'd gone over on hypothetical drive systems. "Thought Alcubierres were sci-fi; that even though the science is solid, there wasn't any way to power them."

Kaylee shrugged a little. "I don't know 'bout that, but I'm lookin' at compellin' evidence that they're at least _tryin'_ ta make Alcubierre drives. Don't think this actually manages faster-than-light, though – it ain't _quite_ configured right. They'd need ta shift the hydrosphere," she tapped a tiny little ball-shaped gadget with her fingernail, "into the main fuel line," she traced the woven-metal hose, "an' figure a way ta keep it from interfering wi' the matter-antimatter reaction they're usin' ta manufacture tachyons."

Unseen by the two Serenity crewmembers, Gail and Lisette paused in their task and shared a disbelieving glance before returning to their work. Wash simply blinked at Kaylee. "They're using _antimatter_ for fuel?"

"Yeah," she agreed, not looking away from the fascinating engine. "Likely usin' a series of scoops on the front end ta generate it from the Hawking radiation along the front end, wi' magnetic field compression to keep it from interacting with regular matter until they need it to. Ain't really that big a deal, ya know."

"Well, that would explain how they managed _not_ to fry themselves," Wash allowed.

The clanging clatter of another panel of the exterior skin of the ship indicated Gail and Lisette had removed another section. Kaylee scooted even further under the slightly elevated tail of the ship. Wash left her to it, ducking out from under it and heading for its door. On reaching it, however, he was faced with something of a conundrum – there wasn't the typical access panel available to open it. He was only thwarted for a moment before he shrugged, then crawled into the ship through its missing window, taking care not to step on the bank of computer controls in the cockpit.

He'd just started looking things over when Gail climbed in and joined him. She just managed to twist herself around in the crowded space and sit on the other of the two chairs present before letting out a groaning 'ooh' noise. The frankly sexual nature of the noise she emitted had Wash landing a slight double-take in her direction. She didn't notice, she was too busy caressing the touchscreen's housing. "A Cortexivid seventy-six-K, series nine-eight-three-dash-BYK. Quantum state processor capable of one-point-eight zettabytes processing per second," she said, lovingly trailing a fingernail along the small row of controls below the housing.

"Would the two of you like some time alone?" Wash couldn't help but ask, his grin all but cemented into place.

Gail blinked and looked at him. "Yes, please – lock the door when you leave," she retorted.

Wash chuckled. "You remind me of a guy I knew in flight school," he commented. "He probably would have had the exact same reaction."

Gail smiled sweetly at him, then focused on the computer while Wash went back to tracing circuits and attempting to locate the Whirlwind's pulse-beacon.

宁静

While the Whirlwind was getting a thorough going-over by those few aboard best equipped to decipher classified-level technologies, Simon and Tora made their way across the cargo bay to where Bo and Tai were helping Akira out of her borrowed space suit. The O'Ryan twins were busy just a couple of steps away, quickly and efficiently looting the dead men's pockets. Thus far, they'd recovered a credit-chip, an S-Bar, two memory tabs, a portable cortex link, and thirty-seven cents in Alliance credit-change.

One of the twins glanced up at the medicos. "Y'all might be interested in this – take a look at their hands."

Tora knelt next to the body that sported a rather beaklike nose. Simon took the other one. Both immediately noticed that one hand in either case was still covered with a blue nitrile glove, but their attention was dragged to the un-gloved hand on either body. "This…" Simon nearly couldn't believe what he was seeing; wouldn't have believed it were it not for the scans he'd seen of what his sister had been put through. "This is a _bio-port_," he said.

Tora nodded. "Heard rumors about goushi like this," she commented, rotating the other body slightly to show Simon that his hand also sported a similar modification. (8)

Simon only spared a glance at the hand Tora showed him, before his attention slipped to the dead man's head. The man with the beaklike nose – _Ta made, I'm going to have to call them something, if only to keep them straight in my own mind_ – Simon mentally dubbed him 'Statler', possessed hair of a much shorter and far thinner nature than his fellow, who Simon named 'Waldorf'. It wasn't so much the man's receding hairline what caught his attention, but the thin, nearly-invisible patchwork of scars on his scalp. _Some of those… They're in the exact same places as the ones on River…_

"Doc?" Tora interrupted his thoughts.

He wrenched his attention to the valkyrie. "Yeah?"

"You alright? You look like ya wanna kill 'em all over again."

Simon shook his head, then asked the redheaded twins, "You two done with these?" The pair nodded simultaneously, and the question earned a harsh look from Akira as she finished stripping out of the EVA suit. "Good," Simon said, "then you two can help me and Miss Ibsen here move them into the infirmary."

"Uh, not ta be too stupid-soundin' here, doc," the twin on the left said.

"But don't ya think they's rather too far gone fer the infirmary ta be any help?" the right twin finished their question.

"Besides," the first one continued, "it ain't like ya don't already know what killed 'em."

"Be that as it may, I think I should still take a closer look at them," Simon said, not bothering to go into any greater detail.

宁静

River followed the damp, mildewed odor out into the common area, then into the cargo bay. No one really noticed as she slipped among the various clusters of people to the fore stairs; Simon and Tora had already moved the dead Blue Hands to the infirmary. She padded up the stairs, pausing twice to make sure she was still following the strange stench. As she emerged onto the landing in the crew-quarters corridor, the scent was thicker than ever, underscored by a faint metallic taste, not wholly unlike the flavor of blood from a split lip.

That close to the galley, the actual scent of dinner overlaid the nightmare miasma she'd been following – chicken-and-dumplings-style-protein, one of the captain's favorites – and it was almost enough to drown out the moldy tickle in the air. Almost. River halted outside Jayne's bunk, where the flavor-scent of earthy, unpleasant things was strongest, and knocked on his hatch.

There wasn't any answer.

宁静

The white-hot scream of exposed nerves along his leg underscored the thudding drum pounding between his ears.

The plink of blood hitting rusted deck plating marked measures, kept to the stressed beat.

Flashing steel and spraying red punctuated long waits in darkness.

Still and quiet and patient.

Wait until the time is right.

Language abandoned, a wordless shriek served a staccato overlay to the sound of breaking bones.

Pretty blue. Maybe purple. That last layer before skin ends and muscle begins.

Strike.

The bass echo of one more body hitting the floor.

Retreat and go still.

Boo. Five rounds left.

Wicked grin.

Wait.

Wait.

Hammering pulse, keeping time.

Keep hearing it. Good to hear it. Still alive.

Still alive.

Wait.

Flash of steel.

Retreat. Wait. Breathe.

Two together. Boo booming, brains on the wall. Screeching from those few remaining. Still too many to take all at once.

Hide.

Wait.

Distant knocking. Unfamiliar. Out of place in this hell.

Boo. Screaming. Wasn't clean. Flash of steel to silence the demon.

Wait.

A hand on his shoulder.

A hand on his shoulder?

Jayne startled, the half-remembered, mostly-repressed memory-dream-nightmare dissolving around him as he opened his eyes to see…

Darkness.

"Dinner is ready." A girl's voice. Quiet. Somewhat uncertain.

Jayne blinked and breathed deep. _Lavender soap and cinnamon toothpaste. _He pushed himself over on his bunk and looked up at River. "Li'l bit?"

"You asked me to get you for supper."

He nodded, pushing away the nightmare as he sat up. "Yeah. Best git, afore yer brother or Mal finds ya where ya don't belong."

River took his advice and didn't linger. Jayne spent a long moment simply sitting there, getting his mind back in order. _Good thing I didn't plan on gettin' much more sleep tonight. Never can sleep much after that pa'ticular dream._ He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly. "Dumplin's?" he grinned. "M'favorite. Mal must be cookin'." He dressed in record time.

* * *

**A/N2:** Sorry this took longer than usual to get posted, but I still have a head cold, though it finally seems to be on its way out. I'm not entirely certain if this chapter or the last one makes sense – what one thinks while under the influence of cold meds and what reality truly is can be completely different animals. Lemme know if I need to go back and clarify any point. Thanks in advance.

And thanks to everyone who's sticking with me on this. I rarely have the time to reply to individual reviews, but I do love hearing what y'all have to say. And to everyone who _doesn't _review – thanks for reading! I do keep tabs on my hit counters, too.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Laoshu de pigu_ – 'rat's ass', translation by Google.

2.) _Shi de, xiansheng_ – 'yes sir', translation by Google.

3.) _Liu koushui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi_ – 'stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

4.) _Fa biao_ – 'going crazy', translation by Wikipedia.

5.) _Guanbi bing chongxin kaishi gongzuo_ – 'shut up and get back to work', translation by Google.

6.) _Dangxin_ – 'be careful', translation by Google.

7.) _Mei-wenti_ – 'no problem', translation by Google and The Disappeared.

8.) _Goushi_ – 'shit', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

**Edit 01/29/2013: ** Reader The Disappeared pointed out 'wenti' should be 'mei-wenti' or else the meaning was actually the opposite of what it was supposed to be. Correction posted. Thanks!


	18. Eighteen

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **This chapter is longer than normal, mainly as an apology for how late it and the last couple have been. Hopefully, my life has calmed sufficiently that future chapters can once more come at a reasonable pace.

Capoeira is a Brazilian fusion of martial arts, music, and dance – it's really quite the most beautiful example of martial arts I've ever seen. If you don't believe me, check out some of the videos available on Youtube. And, for those not already in the know, free running is… Well, kinda hard to explain – it's a lot like the tricks shown in a lot of action flicks (leaping off of second or third story balconies, incorporating a somersault or two, and rolling to a safe landing, or running _up_ a wall in order to flip back around and run back the way you came), only it's all done without safety equipment or wires. Youtube also has some excellent videos in this arena as well.

And an 'anodizer' is an electrical gadget that uses a simple electrolyte solution to oxidize titanium (or other metals) in a controlled setting – it's how they make those knives/rings/Zippos/etc. that have that oil-on-water color scheme. Google images (search for 'anodized titanium') can show some really pretty examples of the effect, if you're interested.

According to Greek mythos, Laelaps was a dog that never failed to catch his prey until he was sent after the Teumessian fox (a fox that couldn't _be_ caught). Zeus, in order to halt the endless, mindless pursuit, turned both dog and fox into constellations in the night sky.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Eighteen: Eighteen_

The clock clicked over to 23:45. Jayne tapped his fingers against the armrest of the copilot's chair in irritation. _Jus' how late did Hen mean when he said 'late on the thirteenth'? Can't get a whole helluva lot later t'night an' have it still _be_ the thirteenth._ He looked from the docubox to the stars outside and back. He double-checked, for what was probably the hundredth time in the last hour, that the docubox was booted up and ready to receive transmissions. It was.

He sighed and kicked back, trying to distract himself with paging through the latest newswaves on the cortex. Halfway through a short report on how a drought on Greenleaf would eventually mean the price of most general anesthetics would shoot through the roof, the docubox _finally_ dinged.

"Zuihou!" Jayne switched the cortex screen off and swiveled to the ship's printer. (1)

"Is it Christmas?" River's disembodied voice seemed to float in the air.

Jayne looked around and spotted a vague girl-shaped shadow behind the grillwork for the main ventilation outlet. "Git outta there, girlie," he grumbled.

The vent cover popped away and she climbed out of the hole, then replaced the cover. "Is it Christmas?" she repeated.

"Near enough," Jayne allowed, sliding out of the copilot's chair. He glanced at the time and found it was just gone midnight. He gestured to the chair and River took his place. "Iffen yer still wantin' ta sign, the contract's here."

"'I can see yet without spectacles'," River replied, focusing on the docubox display. *

"That a 'yeah' or a 'no'?" Jayne asked.

The girl smiled a little, reading through the displayed document at a speed which made Jayne slightly dizzy to watch. "'Everything's blue in this world, the deepest shade of mushroom blue, all fuzzy, spilling out of my head'." **

Jayne blinked at her. "Huh?"

"Can't make the blue go away. Can filter it, though. Change it to purple with pink lenses, or green with yellow ones. Not the optimal outcome in either scenario. However, the proper filter _can_ switch it to brown." River reached the end of the document and picked up the touchscreen's stylus. She scrawled a rather messy signature on the appropriate line, then stood and handed the stylus to Jayne. "I like brown."

Rubbing lightly at his temple with his left hand, Jayne leaned over and signed his own name on the proper line. "What in the tian xiaode am I gettin' m'self inta?" he mumbled to himself. With both signatures in place, he inserted a memory tab and saved a copy of the contract, then told the machine to send it back to Henley's office on Persephone. After confirmation that the document had been received popped up on the screen, Jayne quickly erased the memory in the docubox. No one should ever know they'd received anything. (2)

"The deck has been shuffled," River said, "and oranges are Tall. Oranges are always Tall."

Jayne shut the docubox off and pocketed his memory tab. "Ya said that afore. What's it mean?"

River just smiled at him. "A new game. Or perhaps it is simply a new hand in a very old game." She froze for a moment, her eyes growing distant. "Simon…" she growled under her breath. "The biological fraternal unit is looking for me."

"Go on, then," Jayne made a shooing motion. "Skedaddle."

宁静

River snuck up behind Simon and simply stood there. Her brother had his head poking into her room, and he was softly calling her name. As he reached up around the doorframe to hit the light switch, River tapped his shoulder. He jumped and whirled around. "Looking for me?" she asked, a sweetly innocent smile on her face.

The rapidly-acquired tension in his shoulders evaporated just as quickly. "Yes, meimei, I was." He slid the door to her room fully open and motioned for her to go in. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

River stepped around him and entered her room, flicking on the lights as she went. "Insofar as physical health is concerned, I am fine." She sat on her bed.

Simon stepped into the room and then sat next to her on the bed. "And otherwise?" he asked.

"Angry," River replied.

Her brother frowned. "At whom?"

River repressed the urge to roll her eyes at the thoughts suddenly streaming from her gege; overprotective thoughts of retribution lightly dusted with righteous indignation on her behalf. "You," she said, and the flood of thoughts skitter-stopped.

"_Me_? What did I do?"

"You," she poked his arm, "don't," another poke, "listen," the hardest poke yet.

"I do too!" Simon argued.

River shook her head. "No, you don't. No more drugs, Simon. No more needles."

"Meimei, those are to _help_ you," he said, turning to face her more fully.

"No," River said, "they're to help _you_." She was beginning to get frustrated. "You aren't _listening_!" And she could tell from the flavor of his emotions that he wasn't about to start tonight. She gave him a light shove, just enough to knock him off-balance and sprinted out of her room. By the time Simon managed to right himself to chase after her, she'd already disappeared into the room across the corridor and locked the door behind her.

宁静

Jayne settled on his bunk with the carving he'd been working on, mulling over his latest 'acquisition'. _Gonna hafta see what she can really do wi' a gun,_ he thought, removing microscopic splinters that weren't part of the shape caught within the wood. Kaylee's words from the evening before that bounty hunter had shown up flashed through his mind. _'…only looked for a second, and took my gun, closed her eyes. Killed 'em… All three dead in an instant… And it weren't autofire or luck. She just did the math.'_ A couple more wispy curlicues of waste-wood were shaved from the statuette; it was rapidly approaching 'finished' status. _If that really is what happened, then… Well, hard ta believe. I know it's hard ta believe. But iffen it really _did_ go down like that, then maybehaps this ain't gonna be so ruttin' hard after all. Doc said, back when we first brung 'em aboard, she was a fast learner; fast enough ta make the doc feel like a moron – not that that's all that hard, but still…_

A sudden pressure in his head made him pause in his work. _Gorram it, li'l bit! I know I said ya could hide when ya needed ta, but this is gettin' a mite ridiculous!_ Jayne sighed and sat the carving down, then fell into his own mind. "Ya need sommat in pa'ticular?" he asked on arriving in the dojo to find the girl sitting on the floor in what was rapidly becoming 'her' spot.

River nodded and looked up at him. "Simon to listen to me."

Jayne knelt a couple of paces away from her. "Way I seen it, he's 'bout the only one what does."

River shook her head. "No, he hears me, but he doesn't _listen_; you've always _listened_, even when you only heard part of it or didn't comprehend what you _did_ hear, you still _try_. Simon doesn't. He's convinced he knows better than I do." She let out a helpless little laugh. "He really should know better by now. Did you know I started correcting his homework when I was three? And that he _still_ doesn't know how to spell 'parsimonious'?"

"Parsi-what-ious?"

"Parsimonious. Means frugal or ungenerous." She grinned at an old memory. "I'd called our father that when he refused to buy Simon his own dedicated source box for the cortex. Simon asked me later what I'd meant, and I told him to look it up."

Jayne smirked some. "Sounds like another insult ta add ta the collection."

River brightened slightly. "If you'd like, the full insult was 'parsimonious gou niang yang de sheep'." (3)

Jayne let out a surprised laugh. "You was three?"

"Yeah," River agreed.

"Hell, when I was three, I think I could just about ask Ma fer cookies 'thout any mistakes. An' iffen I'd said anythin' like _that_, I'd like ta get m'ass blistered _an'_ m'mouth washed out wi' soap." The pair chuckled amicably for a moment, then Jayne wrenched the topic back to where it started. "How'd ya mean, the doc ain't listenin' ta ya?"

River sighed. "He hears my words, but will not or can not ascribe any valuable meaning to them. Even when I take care to ensure I am using small words, ones whose meanings cannot be mistaken, he sees it as the meaningless babble of the hopelessly insane." She curled up so her chin rested on her gi-clad knees. "Even on good days, he only actually _listens_ to maybe one-third of what I say."

Jayne stretched out on his side and propped his head on his hand. "Maybehaps 'at's where yer goin' wrong, li'l bit."

"Two things," River interjected before he could continue. "One, _why_ do you call me that? And two… What do you mean, that's where I'm 'going wrong'?"

Jayne cocked an eyebrow at her. "Ya might be an inch taller 'an Kaylee, but I'd bet vital parts o'my anatomy ya ain't more 'an ninety-five pounds soakin' wet. 'Sides, ya ain't 'xactly _tall_ ta begin with."

"I'm actually two inches taller than the average for my gender," River replied. "I am far from _short_."

"Ya ain't _tall_, neither, li'l bit, an' them's just facts. Or wouldja rather I call ya 'crazy' or 'moonbrain'?"

River glared lightly at the man. "I have a _name_. You _could_ use it."

Jayne shrugged. "Could," he admitted, "But I won't, though, an' ya'd best get used ta it. Take it as a comfort, though – could be worse. Most Guildsmen wind up with a nickname afore they're done wi' trainin'; look at Fish." He let out a chuckle, "Or take m'uncle, Hen. His nickname's 'Pincher', an' it ain't got nothin' ta do wi' fightin' – he's jus' a cheap hundan."

River smiled at the description of Jayne's uncle and decided to let the topic drop. Even without her reading ability, she could tell that he wasn't about to be talked out of using his own forms of address as he saw fit. She let out another sigh. "What did you mean, then, when you said I was 'going wrong' in how I spoke with Simon?"

"Meant ya was goin' wrong on usin' li'l words. Been my experience 'at it's the li'l words what wind up havin' the most meanin's. Take one o'the worst ones: God. It may only have three letters, but ya ask a hunnert folks what it means ta them an' yer gonna wind up wi' a hunnert answers. Get a word a li'l longer an' the meanin's start gettin' more specific. Like 'house'. It tends ta mean a buildin' where a family lives, wi' a kitchen, common areas, an' sleepin' places; or a collection o'folks, like wi' the Companion Guild's houses; or a place o'business like a brothel or casino; or it's got sommat – dunno 'xactly what – ta do wi' astrology. Or take 'magazine'. It can mean them monthly or weekly or however often releases of them what ya read or browse on the cortex; or it can be a container what feeds bits inta a bigger machine; or it's a stock o'ammo or the place it's stored; or it's the part o'a gun what holds the bullets afore ya shoot 'em. But ya get a mite longer, an' suddenly words only got one or two meanin's, like wi' 'jaculiferous'."

"Bearing dart-like spines or thorns," River absently supplied the definition while inwardly admitting he had a point – even though he missed several definitions in his examples – and outwardly asking with her expression how he knew the word.

He grinned at her expression. "Hey, 'at rope-badge on m'uniform ain't there jus' ta look pretty. Means I'm certed in wilderness-survival. Plop me down on any terraformed rock in this 'verse an' I'll get by wi' nothin' more 'an m'knife. Might even do 'thout the knife, but I'd not wanna try it."

"I would expect the availability of obsidian or chert would be the deciding factor on whether or not you could survive without a blade."

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Sharp edge comes in real handy when ya don't got any tools. Ain't the best at makin' blades from obsidian, but I do alright. Have better luck castin' m'own points in copper, though, but 'at's sommat what can only be done iffen ya already got a blade ta begin wi'."

"Not to mention the fact you would need raw copper handy, fire, and water."

"Yep," Jayne nodded again. "An' a hollowed-out rock ta melt the copper in, an' sommat ta keep ya from burnin' the hell outta yer hands in movin' it, an' sommat to form a mold. Wet clay's the best, but waterlogged wood'll do in a pinch."

"The grain of the wood doesn't interfere with the casting process?" River asked, knowing from her extensive reading on nearly every topic the process he was describing, but she'd never had the chance to see it in action.

"Nah, not if ya do it right," Jayne said. "One o'the best woods ta use is driftwood. It tends ta be a li'l hard ta carve right iffen it's completely dried out, but all the weatherin' pretty much erases most o'the grain. Hardest part 'bout usin' wood ta cast blades is makin' sure it stays wet enough ta keep the wood from catchin' fire."

"I would like to see you do so at some point," River mentioned. "Though I've read about it, I've never gotten to actually see anyone working with melted metal."

"Ya'll get ta see it," Jayne promised. "Minimum time fer a 'prentice's one year, an' the only folk what get away wi' that's the ones who come from Guildfolk, the ones raised wi' it."

"Like you?"

Jayne made a teetering motion with one hand. "Sorta. I weren't no 'prentice, but I _was_ raised in the Guild, startin' a coupla months shy o'my sixth birthday. Was the youngest kid there by a good six or seven years, an' as ya can 'magine, there weren't much in the way o'playthings available. Didn't really notice it at the time, though. Most o'my free time was spent learnin' whatever the older trainees an' the teachers would gimme. Since I was so li'l, it ain't like I had a hankerin' ta go out wanderin' the city. Booze an' whores an' other trouble didn't really catch m'eye 'til I was fifteen or so, an' by then I was already in m'Blacks, wi' days off ta do wi' as I pleased."

"Did you ever go home after joining the Hall?" River asked, more than a little fascinated by Jayne's experiences – they were so _vastly_ different from her own life. She shifted some, so that she was mimicking Jayne's reclining posture.

"Yeah," he replied. "Ev'ry year, I got ta go home fer Christmas – the week before it right through the end o'the first week o'the new year – an' fer three weeks in July. Visited a li'l more often 'an 'at, what wi' Ma livin' only an hour outside Persephone City, out in Green Bank. Iffen I got a day wi' only one or two classes, an' I had the three credits fer the round-trip train ticket, I could run home fer a few hours when I liked, so long as I tol' Hen where I was goin'."

"It still must have been hard, at least at first," River mused, "being away from home so much."

"Nah, not really. Liked it. Hen wound up m'favorite relative, 'xcept fer Mattie. He always lemme get away wi' more 'an Ma did," he smirked at the fond memories.

"Is Mattie your brother?" River asked.

Jayne shook his head. "Nah, she's m'baby sister. She an' me, we're the youngest o'eleven kids." River laughed, and Jayne rolled his eyes at her. "Go ahead an' say it. Know ya wanna."

"Say what?" she managed.

"Sommat 'bout Ma an' Pa not knowin' girl-names from boy-names."

She forced herself to breathe, then said, "Well, now I don't have to. You've already said it."

He rolled his eyes again. "Ain't like that, ya know. Ignorin' nicknames, all m'sibs are: Sarina, Miriam, Cohen Junior, Hannah, Shiloh, Gabriel, Tabitha, Leah, James, an' Matalynn."

"If that's the case, how'd you wind up with 'Jayne'?"

"Were a typo. 'At 'N' were s'posed ta be an 'M'. By the time Ma spotted the mistake, it woulda cost more 'an we got ta fix it, so Ma let it be. 'Til I started school, I went by my middle name, Alexander. When I got ta school, though, since it were 'Jayne' on all the paperwork, 'Jayne' is what ev'ryone started callin' me. Nowadays, the only ones what call me by my middle name's all family." He let out a laugh. "Hafta admit it ain't so bad. Havin' a name like 'Jayne', I mean. It got me inta more 'an m'fair share o'fights, but…" he shrugged. "Wi' a name like that, a guy don't take exception ta a whole lot. Can call me just 'bout anythin' an' I don't much care."

"Only if someone calls you a girl," River teased.

Snorting, Jayne agreed, "An' even then, it's easy ta clear up the confusion."

"By showing your 'man parts'," she giggled.

"Or by knockin' out a few teeth," he allowed. "Anyway, we're wanderin' far afield o'the topic, li'l bit."

"Odd," River replied. "I thought this was a rather organic conversation."

"Yeah, an' 'at's the problem. We were talkin' 'bout how yer gege weren't listenin' ta ya, then got sidetracked. If ya got specifics yer wantin' 'im ta hear, tell me an' I'll _make _'im listen, even if I gotta punch 'im." (4)

Her expression turned into something that was a halfway marker between 'thoughtful' and 'just sucked on a lemon'. "Well…" she said, drawing out the word. "Mostly, I wish he'd at least _try_ to understand what I'm trying to say when I'm talking; even when the words get all jumbled, the underlying meaning is usually still there. I've noticed in speaking with you and Kaylee and Wash that if you ask me to rephrase it, I can sometimes come closer to the meaning of what I'm trying to say, enough so that misunderstandings become rarer. Other than that, there's only two things I wish Simon would _hear_ and _understand_: Firstly, no more _gorram_ drugs! Sure, they can make it so it's easier for me to communicate clearly, but they usually make me sick to my stomach. Even when they stop working, they still make me sick. I _hate_ it. No," she corrected herself. "'Hate' is too mild a word. I _loathe_ it. I _despise _it. I would rather be babbling complete gibberish with no hope of anyone understanding me at all than be too ill to stand upright without having a revisitation of my last meal."

"Can't say I blame ya none," Jayne said. "Ain't nobody what _likes_ upchuckin'. What's the second thing?"

"I want clothes that fit," River stated simply. "He keeps buying me these lacy, frilly dresses, skirts, and bulky sweaters that are _at least _three sizes too big – it's embarrassing! I am _nobody's_ doll, yet he keeps trying to make me look like Penelope."

"Okay, I'll bite," Jayne said, smiling at the completely _girlish_ nature of her second request. "Who's Penelope?"

"A cloth doll I had as a small child. She had yarn hair and a whole chest full of gingham dresses. I never really played much with her; Julia, my nanny, is the one who changed her clothes every day or two, trying to get me to act like a little girl. I had much more fun with Simon's old building sets and toy soldiers, at least until Mother had Julia throw them away when I was six."

"How 'bout I pass the clothes-request along ta Kaylee? I'm thinkin' she'd have better luck 'an me in gettin' yer brother ta listen – I don't know nobody what can say 'no' ta Kaylee when she really wants sommat. Doubt yer brother'll be any different."

"You are likely right about that. Besides, if Kaylee knows I want clothes that fit, even if Simon won't buy them for me, I'm sure she would. They might wind up pink and covered in rainbows and teddy bears, but at least they'd fit."

"Could always ask Zoë, too, ya know," Jayne commented. "She's a fair hand wi' a needle an' always listens ta what ya want, even if she don't like it none herself. She makes most o'Wash's shirts an' made m'striped dress shirt."

River wrinkled her nose. "Wash's shirts are all bigger than they need to be. And I _really_ don't like that stripey thing of yours, though it _does_ fit well."

"Hey! What's wrong wi' m'shirt?" Jayne asked in mock-outrage, exerting a little mental twitch to reclothe himself in his favorite non-tee and a pair of dark jeans. He gestured to himself, "_I_ think it's cunning."

She frowned and shook her head. "You're tall enough and broad enough that you don't need stripes like these," she tugged on his sleeve. "Usually, people use stripes like this to create the illusion of being taller or wider than they really are. The stripes make a viewer's eye travel slightly in the direction the stripes run. You ought to stick to solid colors. And I stand by what I said that day – you'd look good in red."

He sighed and switched his mental projection back to the plain white gi with black obi. "Clothes what fit an' no more drugs're what ya need yer gege ta get through his head? 'At's all?"

River nodded. "For now. There might be other things, but I can't think of them as yet." Her face shifted gears once again into 'thoughtful' mode. "Well, I did just think of one more thing."

"What?"

"I want my room to lock from the inside again. I'm tired of having to read where everyone is when I go to change my clothes."

Jayne frowned and held up his hand in the universal gesture for 'hold a moment'. "Wait, yer tellin' me yer door don't lock? How come ya ain't tol' Kaylee? She'd fix it fer ya in an instant."

"You misunderstand," River replied. "It _does_ lock – it locks from the outside. The captain had Kaylee switch the mechanism after that incident with the butcher's knife," the last bit was said with her looking down at her feet.

"Air through the engine, li'l bit – thought we agreed on that." Jayne reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I ain't gonna hold it against ya. An' iffen _I_ ain't, then nobody else oughta either." He sighed. "However, I know Mal won't much like the idea o'changin' it back, not 'til _he's_ convinced ya won't run batty again an' try killin' someone."

It was River's turn to sigh as Jayne's hand fell away. "How long will that take? It's been _months_ since I've had a violent episode."

"Don't know, li'l bit," Jayne said. "But there ain't nothin' I know of what says ya can't move inta one o'the other dorms."

"Hmm…" River had to admit that Jayne had a good point. "Simon took the suite in A corridor after the captain killed the fed. I _could_ move into the other suite in B corridor. Simon won't much like me being so far from him, but I can always embarrass him into letting me move. You could convince the captain to convert my current room over to a brig. If Serenity had possessed a proper lockup area when Dobson was aboard, he wouldn't have escaped, and it is less likely that the captain would have needed to kill him."

Jayne closed his eyes, imagining what would be needed to convert the passenger dorm into a proper brig. "Huh, that ain't a half-bad idea, li'l bit. Wouldn't take more 'an a week wi' a weldin' torch, some rewirin', an' mayhaps twenty platinum worth o'sheet metal." He opened his eyes. "Ya get yer brother ta okay ya movin', an' I'll talk ta Mal 'bout makin' a brig. Too bad we don't got the spare scrap right now, else we could have it done in a day or two – I know Penn's a fair hand wi' a welder, an' all three Robaks oughta be, too. Their Pa's a machinist on Paris."

"They think well of you," River said.

"Who? The Robaks?" Jayne asked.

River shook her head and clarified, "The other Guildsmen."

Jayne shrugged, a little embarrassed, but determined not to show it. "So?"

"Just wondering why."

"Hafta ask them, I 'xpect. Know it's partly 'cause I earned m'Blacks so ruttin' young – an' regardless o'what some might say, it weren't 'cause the Hall director is m'uncle, neither. I still had ta test outta the basics, jus' like ev'ryone else does. Jus' like yer gonna hafta do."

"What do these basics entail?"

"Normal learnin' ta certain levels – math an' readin' an' the like. Also knowin' one form o'self defense or another ta a reasonable level. Knowin' Guild laws, internal customs, an' such. Most o'it I s'pect ya already know, won't be much actual learnin' fer ya, save fer the Guild-specifics an' pro'ly the fightin'."

"Fighting will not be a problem," River replied, meeting his questioning glance with her own steady gaze. Jayne made a 'go on' gesture. "Part of the program at the Academy included proficiency tutelage in unarmed combat, blades, and handguns. Under normal conditions, however, due to how the information was ingrained, I cannot consciously access it."

Jayne knew without a shred of doubt that this was information Simon didn't know. With one eyebrow arched a little higher than the other, and a squinty-smirk on his face, he asked, "So what conditions _can_ ya fight in?"

"Defense of self," River replied, her voice inflectionless, like she was simply reciting memorized facts about climate-change on Sihnon. _Explains them three Kaylee saw her kill,_ Jayne thought. "And if provided with proper audiovisual stimulation, preset behavioral triggers will be tripped, leading to anything from a singular quiet assassination to…"

"To a massacre?"

River nodded, her gaze drifting towards the dojo's interwoven bamboo ceiling. "Yes. I don't know what the triggers are, but I do know they're sufficiently complicated so as to render the possibility of accidental activation to near-zero."

"Then yer already ahead of the game," Jayne said. "Iffen they went through the bother o'teachin' ya – _really_ teachin' ya, I mean, not jus' implantin' mem'ries an' the like – then even iffen ya can't think on it, yer body already knows how ta move."

"Muscle memory," River said, dragging her eyes back to Jayne's.

"'Xactly," Jayne nodded. "Ya got any idea what style o'hand-ta-hand they taught ya?"

"I know they begun with capoeira; they considered it a transitional phase between dance and fighting, but after that, no one bothered to inform me if I was taught any other styles. I suspect they did, simply because after a while the practices were done sans music."

"Saw capoeira demonstrated once," Jayne replied, rolling onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling and River followed his gaze. The intricate bamboo design faded, replaced with what she decided to label a 'memory screen'. It showed a pair of athletic young men sparring in what was obviously a martial art, but their moves were kept to the beat of drum-heavy music that played along with the visual portion of the memory. "The one wearin' the green shorts was Mac. He was m'second in m'company. The one in the blue is Chance Ibsen – Tora's husband – though at the time, they ain't met yet. He's one o'the guards back at the Hall."

As River watched the uniquely graceful men in Jayne's memory, she wondered if she had appeared so gracefully deadly to her tutors. "You never learned it yourself?"

"Nah," Jayne replied. "Preferred karate an' judo an' plain ol' brawlin'. 'Sides, the class woulda cut inta m'free runnin' time. Was only offered the year I turned seventeen. Weren't 'nough interest ta keep it up steadylike. An' even iffen they offered it again, I don't think I'd bother goin' home ta learn it."

The memory ended and the bamboo ceiling returned. "You don't much like it, do you?" River asked.

"What?"

"Returning to the Hall on Persephone."

Jayne shrugged. "It has its good points and its bad points. But, yeah, I don't much like it. Too many o'the old guard's gone an' too many o'the xinshou've heard too many o'the rumors. Every gorram time I return, some dumbass Silverman thinks he can up his status by tryin' ta take me down. An' every gorram time, I gotta put 'em in 'is place, an' even _more_ muqin gaisi de rumors start up." He sighed and looked over at his new protégé, running a hand over his hair. "'S jus' frustratin', 's all." (5)

"What rumors are there?" River asked, sitting up.

Jayne shook his head. "Some what're right, an' some what ain't. Jus' like rumors tend ta be. I'm thinkin' it'd be best iffen ya didn't poke too hard on it. Not yet. Wait 'til after we can see iffen them bits o'yer brain can be fixed first. An' speakin' o'that, I'm gonna need a copy of them scans yer brother took, since I doubt we're gonna have the chance ta take new ones."

"Simon keeps the memory tab in a drawer in the infirmary. It should be relatively simple to borrow it and copy the contents," she supplied, then was caught by surprise when she was ambushed by a yawn.

Jayne chuckled. "'Bout time fer ya ta head on back ta yer own skull, I'm thinkin'. Get some sleep."

She nodded and climbed to her feet. "Goodnight, Jayne."

"'Night, li'l bit." Jayne waited until River had faded out of his mind, then returned to the real world himself. He glanced at the chrono and found it was only two in the morning. He put the not-quite-finished figurine and his tools away, then climbed out of his bunk. Kaylee's hatch was still open, so he knocked on it.

"Yeah?" Kaylee's voice drifted up.

"Ya busy?" Jayne asked.

"Nah, just readin'. Come on down." Jayne climbed down and smiled at the uniquely cheerful décor as he always did. "Whacha need, Jayne?" she asked, setting aside a digital book reader.

"Found out sommat I thought ya might like knowin'," he said, a note of teasing underscoring his voice.

Kaylee immediately brightened from her typical hundred-watt presence to small-sun brightness. "Ooh! Gossip! Spill!" She scooted over and motioned for Jayne to join her on her bed.

Jayne shook his head at the offer. "Thanks, though. Do ya know what t'day is?"

Kaylee chewed on her lip for a moment. "Um… Monday?" She glanced at a wind-up clock she kept on a shelf by her bed and amended her statement. "Uh, Tuesday now."

He shook his head again. "Not the day o'the week, Kaylee-girl. The date."

"Oh, it's June…" she trailed off, trying to come up with the date. "June fourteenth," she finally said, though she had to use the chrono-display on her cortex screen.

"Ya know what it is, though?" Jayne pressed, more teasing filling his voice.

Kaylee let out a bouncy huff of air that was too cheerful to be a proper sigh. "Obviously not. So, spill you kelian de ren!" (6)

Letting out a snort of amusement, Jayne finally explained, "Found out t'day's the moonbrain's birthday."

Kaylee was the only person Jayne had ever met who could be both upset and cheerful at the same time. "Hey! Thought you were callin' her 'li'l bit'?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "Still do."

"But her birthday? You're sure?"

He nodded. "Yep. Still listed on her warrant on the cortex. Eighteen t'day."

Kaylee let out a strangely maniacal giggle and rubbed her hands together. "Hee! Wish I'd known before we left Persephone; I coulda got her somethin' pretty. Still, I got enough flour an' sugar left over ta make a proper cake, though."

"An' I heard 'er complainin' on them clothes the doc buys fer 'er jus' a li'l bit ago, hates how nothin' he gets fits 'er."

Kaylee nodded hard enough to bounce on her mattress. "I know – I've heard her muttering about it my own self. Just about the only things she's got what fits proper are them black shorts I give her back when she first came aboard an' that ugly old greenish-yellow shirt Zoë donated." She jumped up and headed to her closet-cubby and began thumbing through her things. "Hmm…"

After a full minute of being ignored in favor of sorting through clothing, Jayne cleared his throat. "Guess I'll jus' leave ya ta it, then," he said.

"Oh!" Kaylee spun around. "Sorry! Forgot you was here."

"No matter," Jayne replied. "Catch ya later," he said, climbing out of the mechanic's room. _That's one,_ he thought, heading for the kitchen. After grabbing a snack of some of dinner's leftovers and making himself a cup of coffee, he strolled down to the common area. He poked his head around the corner and saw Simon's room was dark, though River's was still lit, the door was open. Walking lightly, he headed that direction, but found she wasn't in her room, though there was a note taped to the locked door across the hall. Try as he might, he couldn't begin to decipher the doctor's horrid handwriting. _Hell, he writes worse 'an Ma does. Didn't think nobody could have worse handwritin' 'an her._

Satisfied he wouldn't be interrupted, Jayne headed back towards the infirmary. Starting with the drawers nearest the cortex in the medibay, he started looking for the memory tab that contained River's brain-scans. He found it on the second try. Five minutes later, he'd transferred a copy of the contents over to his own memory tab, the same one that also contained a copy of River's apprentice contract. _Two's down,_ he crossed the entry off of his mental to-do list. _Gonna hafta wait 'til mornin' ta talk ta Mal'bout makin' a brig outta River's ol' room. So, 'at leaves them meds._ He was tempted to simply toss them into the trash, but decided not to, only because he was unsure as to which ones were the meds Simon had been giving his sister and which were needed for things like gunshots and stab-wounds. After returning Simon's memory tab to its place, he left the infirmary and drifted out to the cargo bay.

The Qianfeng were all sleeping, so he headed upstairs once more, not wanting to wake anyone by being too noisy with his weights or the punching-bag. He wound up right where he'd begun, in his bunk. _Okay, now what? Ain't tired in the slightest… An' ya still gotta figure out what ta give 'er – ya got two things ta figure out, sommat fer her birthday, an' sommat fer the 'prentice-gift._

He removed the blanket covering his arsenal and looked it over. Traditionally, an apprentice's welcome-gift was a weapon of some sort, usually a handgun. _Hmm… Think the Whitney Wolverine might do. 'S only a .32 caliber, an' it was always a mite small fer me. _He pulled the sleek pistol off its hook and looked it over. The nearly aerodynamic silhouette it possessed, with the grip raked back, always made it look, in Jayne's eyes, more feminine than his other guns, though it's shape had lent itself to a gender-neutral name of 'Fang'.

Settling at his desk, he quickly disassembled Fang and cleaned it of all oils. Setting the other pieces aside, he focused on the barrel and frame. He dug his engraving pen out of his desk drawer and began etching rose vines along the surfaces that would be visible when the gun was assembled, leaving blank spots for the flowers themselves. Once he finished, he blocked the ends of the barrel with cork and dug an anodizer out of one of his less-used storage holes. He had to make a quick trip to the ship's laundry for a bit of borax, but once he had it, it only took a few moments to set up the anodizer to color the titanium of the gun's barrel and frame. He set the voltage to one-ten, then sat back on his bunk to wait, working on his carving in the meanwhile.

When the timer dinged, he sat the now-done carving down and returned to his desk. Seeing that the exposed metal had acquired the bright green color he'd been after, he turned the anodizer off and removed the gun parts from the borax solution. Next, he polished off the layer of oxidized green that wasn't within the etching he'd done earlier, then picked up his engraving pen once more to add rose blossoms to the vine. It took longer, what with the blossoms being somewhat more detailed than the rest of the work, but he still managed to finish long before breakfast. Once he finished, he coated all but the blossoms with a protective nonconductive gel designed for the purpose and set the anodizer's voltage to roughly eighty. Provided all went well, it would make the oxidized layer turn a bright yellow.

While waiting this time, he pulled out a small collection of enamel paints and set to work on the grips. Originally made of imitation ivory, their stark white color, coupled with the nearly microscopic crosshatching of the traction would hold enamel quite well. Using one of his smallest brushes, he continued the rose-vine motif onto them. He hadn't quite finished when he heard Mal call breakfast, but it was close. "Jus' a minute!" Jayne called up his ladder after opening the hatch. He took a full ten to finish filling in the design before putting his paints away and checking the status of the anodizer. It still needed a while yet, so he headed on to the galley.

Kaylee, as he'd assumed, managed to let the rest of the crew know it was River's birthday during the course of the meal. Smirking to himself at Simon's 'eek, I completely forgot' face, he made a grunting noise as the others wished the girl a happy birthday. Seeing River's knowing grin out of the corner of his eye, he knew she realized he wasn't going to change his established behavior towards her just because of the contract, particularly since she'd all but demanded he keep that information from her brother. Jayne had no problems with it. _'S bad enough Wash an' Kaylee know I call her nicer things than 'moonbrain'. Don't wanna think on the teasin' should they find out I'm actually _helpin'_ her._

The distant, faint beeping noise of his anodizer's timer came just as he was finishing up his meal. Double-checking the chore sheet, he noticed he was due for kitchen clean-up, so he hurried to his bunk to check the gun parts. The rose blossoms had acquired a bright and sunny yellow color, so he shut it off and removed the frame and barrel, then raced back to the kitchen to begin scrubbing dishes.

Most of the rest of the crew had dissipated before he finished, but Wash remained, nursing one last mug of tea. "What was that about?" he asked.

"What was what 'bout?" Jayne countered, scrubbing a little harder to get some crusted egg-protein gunk off of the edge of the frying pan.

"What had you running back to your bunk?"

"Jus' had sommat in m'anodizer's all. Didn't wanna let it sit too long." The last of the crusted gunk finally came off and he transferred the pan to the rinse side of the sink.

"That's the whachamacallit you used to make those colored fishing lures for me, isn't it?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Don't use it much, but ya gotta admit, it's come in handy a time or two."

Wash finished up his tea and brought the mug over to Jayne. "Can't say one way or the other; I'm not the one using it. But… Didn't Inara have you make her a pair of earrings when she saw the lures?"

Jayne nodded again and quickly washed the mug. "Yeah."

"Surprised me you said yes. Never figured you for a jewelry maker." Wash leaned against the counter, his eyes sparkling in repressed humor.

"Ain't such a stretch, little man. I got me six sisters an' Ma an' I don't always got the cash fer birthday or Christmas gifts. Ain't like they'd much appreciate gettin' guns or knives." Jayne searched the bottom of the wash-water for any missed chopsticks or cutlery before pulling the plug to drain the sink.

"Might have a point," Wash allowed. "Them things you color in that hoozits –"

"Anodizer," Jayne absently supplied the right word.

"Yeah, that. They gotta be any specific metal, or can you color anything?"

"Aluminum, titanium, magnesium, zinc, niobium, an' tantalum are what anodize," Jayne replied, reaching for the dishtowel. "Titanium an' aluminum are the best; they's the easiest ta get specific colors. An' wi' aluminum, iffen the color ain't 'xactly right, ya can actually dye it after."

"Can you make it any color?"

"Well," Jayne dried off the frying pan, then reached for a plate. "Red's kinda difficult to get right, but greens an' blues an' yellows are all pretty easy." He finished up the plate and grabbed another. "What's wi' the twenty questions?"

"Zoë and my anniversary's in a couple of months. I was hoping to get her something special…"

"Always lookin' fer sommat ta do durin' downtime, Wash," Jayne said, looking at the pilot. "Jus' gimme a coupla days afore ya need it done."

Wash grinned. "Thanks, man," he clasped Jayne's shoulder, then practically skipped off in the direction of the bridge.

Letting out a silent chuckle, Jayne shook his head. _Nutty li'l bugger, ain't he?_ the thought was coated in fondness. He refocused on his task, reaching for the handful of forks and chopsticks.

宁静

Somehow, word of River's birthday leaked to the Qianfeng around lunchtime. Personally, Jayne blamed Kaylee, though he had absolutely no proof of this assumption. The mercenaries, following their 'eat, drink, and be merry' attitude, seized on the opportunity – or excuse – for a party. And nobody in the 'verse could claim that Guild parties were dull. Various bottles of booze, including a galleon-jug of Kaylee's engine-hooch, surfaced quickly.

Not long afterwards, an impromptu dance contest started up among the Robak brothers, all of whom utilized a highly athletic, nearly gymnastic, style popular among street-entertainers on Paris. Not to be outdone, the Lins managed a tango that made it seem as though the very air were about to spontaneously ignite. Most who witnessed it were inwardly awed that the couple could dance like that and _not_ immediately go looking for a private nook for dancing of a more horizontal nature.

The good mood was infectious, particularly to Serenity's resident psychic, and the music and dancing pulled her to the cargo bay like chum called sharks on New Melbourne. The general level of drunkenness of most everyone nicely dulled the amount she could read off of them, so she was able to accept without any problems when one of the men asked her to dance with them. Of the ones she danced with, the best was, by far, Penn Brace. She could tell he'd had some sort of formal training, but she didn't say as much to anyone. She didn't want to embarrass him.

Even Mal managed to unbend some and enjoy the company, even though he didn't dance. Kaylee tried, many times, to drag Simon away from the sidelines, but each time he refused. Eventually, River caught Kaylee's elbow and explained, "He trips over his imagination. He would wind up breaking your toes. Dance with Brace instead."

"But –"

"He can dance very well. Besides, it might make Simon jealous," she whispered with a light dusting of malicious glee.

A slow smirk landed on Kaylee's face. "It would, wouldn't it?" She grinned and rushed over to the Qianfeng second-in-command. Much like people the 'verse over, he couldn't say no to Kaylee's pout, and allowed himself to be dragged back onto the practice mat they were using for their dance floor.

When a particularly irritating song came up on the cortex, someone – Jayne thought it might have been Hu himself – tossed an empty tin cup at the speaker. Kaylee shrieked at the blatant abuse, and shouted over the general din, "Hey! If y'all don't like the music, turn it off! Don't break nothin' I gotta fix!" More than half the assembled group laughed, but Paul stumbled over to the cortex itself and changed the station to one that was playing slightly older music; songs that nearly everyone knew the words to.

It was only a matter of time before someone dug out a microphone and talked Kaylee into tinkering with the controls to turn the vocals track off. Surprisingly, Zoë had a lovely singing voice. Jayne had to wonder just how drunk she was, though – he'd never seen her so lively, not even when being shot at.

As the time closed in on dinner, Kaylee managed to untangle herself from her new best friends and head over to where Jayne was nursing a small cup of what Zhang had claimed was vodka, cut with orange-citrus-drink-mix. "You sober 'nough ta cook 'thout burnin' us out?"

She giggled, "I ain't drunk, Jayne. Buzzed, sure, but not drunk."

Considering she was one of the few who weren't slurring and that could still walk straight, Jayne took her at her word. "How long 'til dinner? I'm 'bout starved."

She considered for a long moment. "About an hour for supper. Two hours or so for cake. I just wish I'd known about River's birthday – I coulda got ice cream, too."

_Yeah, she's buzzed good an' proper._ "I'll let the crew know. There gonna be 'nough cake fer everyone?"

She looked out at the combined passengers and crew. "Yeah, should be. I used the biggest cake pan we have. The one what left us eatin' cake for a week when I made Mal's birthday cake in it."

Knowing that the galley lacked an oven of sufficient size, Jayne winced. "Ya gonna need me ta help ya set up the box in the engine room again?"

Kaylee shook her head. "Nope – I figured out how ta run a heatin' element inta it. Finished boltin' it under the stove before I joined the party."

Jayne brightened. "Big 'nough ta roast chickens?"

She nodded. "Yep! Can start gettin' a bit more variety in our meals now I got a proper oven!" She headed up the stairs before Jayne could further delay her, not that he minded.

Dinner was delicious as it typically was when Kaylee cooked, and entertaining as most of the crew had enough alcohol to tell some particularly amusing stories. Wash and Zoë, at Kaylee's request, got everyone else to vacate back to the cargo bay while she finished frosting the cake. Jayne swung by his bunk long enough to grab the newly-decorated Fang – packed in an old shoebox and wrapped with scrap paper harvested out of old magazines – and his guitar before rejoining the party.

One of the Qianfeng's card tables had acquired a small pile of presents, some wrapped, some not, in the time the crew had been enjoying their supper. Jayne added his contribution to the stack while Akira grinned at his guitar and headed for one of the storage lockers they'd brought with them. Minutes later, she reappeared with a fiddle. Penn came up with a harmonica, and the Robaks had a banjo and another guitar. Greg improvised a decent drum set using a couple of boxes and a metal folding chair.

宁静

On the other side of the 'verse, a communications technician straightened his tie, then knocked on the opulent office door before him, despite having been told by the pretty secretary he could go right in.

"Enter!" an authoritative baritone voice called out.

The technician swallowed hard and stepped inside. "Sir?"

"Yes? I understand you have an update on the mission?"

"Somewhat, sir," the tech swallowed again, only to find his mouth had suddenly ceased production of saliva.

"Well, spit it out, boy! I don't have all day!"

The tech winced. "Sorry, sir, but it's been over twenty-four hours since we last received any communication from the agents. We've tested the system extensively, but there is nothing to indicate any sort of mechanical or software failure."

The man on the other side of the elaborately carved mahogany desk frowned. "You may leave." The tech wasted no time in disappearing as quickly as his feet could take him without seeming rushed. The man behind the desk hit a button on his intercom. "Sophie?"

"Yes, sir?" the pretty secretary's voice came back through the speaker.

"Get me Senator Harper immediately. Code red."

"Yes, sir," she replied. Heartbeats later, her voice came back over the speaker, "Senator Harper is on line five, sir."

"Thank you, Sophie." He turned to the small cortex and hit a button. "Joe, we got a problem," he said as soon as Harper's face turned up on the screen.

宁静

The cake went over well, and River seemed to have fun receiving gifts. Her favorite was the gun Jayne gave her, but not because of what it was – she could read the work he'd done on it that day, and it was the _effort_ he'd put into it that made her like it so. Predictably, both Mal and Simon voiced intense displeasure at the thought of her having a weapon, but both were silenced when Jayne argued, "Hell, whacha bitchin' 'bout? The Wolverine's the only gun aboard what's a .32 caliber, and we ain't got no ammo for it right now! An' I _ain't _gonna buy any fer it 'til she shows me she can use it an' _not_ shoot any o'us! I ain't that gorram stupid!" The last bit was said while looking straight at her. She nodded her understanding at his meaning – she wouldn't be allowed to fire it until she proved to the mercenary's satisfaction that she could treat it with all the respect a weapon of its quality deserved. Among other trinkets, she was also given a joint-gift by Kaylee and Zoë of a pair of dungarees that looked like they would actually fit properly and a black blouse with short sleeves that had a frilly bit along the neckline which likewise looked like it would fit the way clothing was supposed to.

After the gifts were done, more music and dancing and singing and booze followed.

One by one, the accumulated people either dropped off to sleep or wound down into smaller groups and were either playing cards or talking in low voices so as not to wake anyone. Most of the crew had adjourned to their bunks. River was in the process of putting her new acquisitions away in the suite on corridor B when a creeping sensation of dislocation washed over her senses.

Jayne had been helping her schlep her things – after moving the gifts, they were going to quietly move the rest of her things out of her old room while Simon was passed out on the common area's sofa – and nearly ran over her when she suddenly stilled. "Li'l bit?" he asked, stepping to one side to avoid hitting her.

A blank expression on her face, River began whispering. "'Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart, the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.'" She took a breath, but before Jayne could say anything, she continued, "'Surely some revelation is at hand; surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out when a vast image of Spiritus Mundi troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand; a shape with a lion body and the head of a man, a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, is moving its slow thighs, while all about it wind shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again but now I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, and what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?'" ***

Jayne waited until River had remained quiet for nearly a full minute before nudging her with his elbow – his hands were too full of assorted gifts to be of use. "Li'l bit?"

River blinked and looked up at him. "Laelaps has been released and I am his prey."

* * *

**A/N2:** Okay, so in riding out the tail end of my cold, I did what I always do when recovering from illness – I had m'self a horror-movie marathon. I pulled up one of those 'greatest horror movie of all time' lists and randomly selected a number, then watched whatever flick was that number on the list. Now, the first flick that came up was _Deliverance_ (1972). I don't think this flick truly qualifies as a horror movie. I mean, where's the _horror_? Four dumbasses go canoeing and the fat bastard gets raped by a hillbilly – unfortunate, sure, but not precisely _horror_. Then Burt Reynolds' character shoots the rapist with a bow – again, not _horror_. Then the dumbasses hide the body and the whiny li'l dude gets all guilty and throws himself out of the canoe at the start of some pretty gnarly rapids and dies. Again, _not horror_! Then the loudmouth idiot (aka Reynolds' character) breaks his leg in those same rapids. Once the three remaining morons (Reynolds included) make it through the rapids and down the waterfall (and how were these idiots going to _canoe_ through _that_, by-the-by? Everyone repeat after me: PLOTHOLE), the doofus who had already proved he couldn't shoot a freakin' _deer_ decides to try to shoot a _hillbilly_ (which it is never clearly explained whether or not he was one of the two who'd assaulted Fat Bastard earlier in the movie); needless to say, doofus _chokes_. Yet, through blind luck, the arrow that should have gone wild still finds its way through the chest cavity of Hillbilly 2. _This still isn't horror!_ Anyway, to cut a long story short, Fat Bastard, Doofus, and Loudmouth all survive and make it back to civilization. Not. A. Gorram. Horror. Movie. Get it right, you dumbass pricks who compile horror movie lists! Creepiest thing about the whole bloody thing is at the very start when Whiney Li'l Dude and Random Inbred Yokel do an impromptu guitar/banjo jam and play 'Dueling Banjos'. /End of rant, enjoy your day!

* Quote from Act I, Scene I of Shakespeare's _Much Ado About Nothing_.

** Quote from Nine Inch Nails' _The Downward Spiral_.

*** W. B. Yeats, _The Second Coming_

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Zuihou_ – 'finally', translation by Google.

2.) _Tian xiaode_ – 'name of all that's sacred', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

3.) _Gou niang yang de_ – 'son of a bitching', translation by Wikipedia.

4.) _Gege_ – 'brother', translation by Google.

5.) _Xinshou, Muqin gaisi de_ – 'newbies', 'mother fucking', translations by Google.

6.) _Kelian de ren_ – 'wretched man', translation by Google.


	19. Unwelcome News

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **Grr. I growl at real life for distracting me! *shakes fist at sky* Any time I attempt to claim that life seems to be starting to slow down, crap heats up and I'm stuck running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Ergo, how about some reverse-psychology on the Fates? Here goes… *clears throat* I hope my life begins to become nearly unbearably busy soon.

(Hope that worked.)

Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope y'all like it.

* * *

**Dominoes**

_Chapter Nineteen: Unwelcome News_

Simon woke at his usual time. He spent about fifteen minutes simply staring up at his ceiling, attempting to get enough neurons functioning to allow him to attain a vertical position, despite the general chorus of complaining going on within his skull. _Urg. What _did_ I drink last night? Sake doesn't do this to me. Ah… I miss sake._ Even the wistful wish was enough to make his brain throb a little harder. _Well, I'm sure I'll miss it when the hangover goes away._ Slowly, he managed to push himself into a sitting position. The movement was enough to tell him that his bladder rather desperately needed urgent attention.

He groaned and stumbled over to the pull-out toilet. Once he finished, he groped for the nearest clothing – yesterday's slacks and shirt – and pulled them on. Foregoing shoes, vest, and socks, he then headed for the infirmary. Tora was there already. She took one glance at his barefoot, unkempt self, complete with a spectacular case of bed-head, and burst out laughing.

"Keep laughing, and nobody will be able to locate your body," he growled at her while heading for the cabinet wherein he kept the smallish stock of hangover remedies he'd located months ago on Paquin.

With inordinate effort, Tora stifled her giggles. She managed the Herculean feat by focusing on her task; the cataloging of scars found on one of their temporary 'visitors'. She waited until her peripheral vision told her that the doctor had self-medicated and the subtle relaxation of his stance told her the medication had kicked in, before speaking again. "I wanted to finish up with these two by the end of today," she indicated the two dead men who were still taking up space on the counter and exam table of the infirmary.

Simon nodded in agreement while rummaging in the small portion of the counter space he'd appropriated for a desk. Coming up with a comb, he said, "Yes, that would be a good idea. We got awfully side-tracked yesterday, what with River's birthday and all. And thank you for the hair ribbon, by-the-way. I doubt River will say it, so I've done so on her behalf."

"She's the one the neuroleptics are for, right?" Tora asked, looking over at Simon.

The doctor paused in running the comb through his hair. "Ye-es," he drew the word out for several seconds, a suspicious look on his face.

Tora smiled at him. "Don't fret about it, doc," she said. "I won't say anything. She just seemed… _off_ all yesterday, at least when compared with other girls her age." She paused, thoughtful, for a moment, before adding, "Well, except for when she was dancing. She seemed to be having a blast doing that. She's really quite graceful, isn't she?"

"She is," Simon agreed, then hurriedly finished combing his hair before returning the comb to his desk. He strolled over to where Tora was working on the man Simon had taken to calling 'Stetler'. "What have you gotten done in my absence?"

"Not much," she replied, tucking a loose lock of her red hair back behind her ear. "I finished cataloging all his scars. Except for a very old scar on his leg – I'm guessing he got it as a child – all the rest match up with those bright spots on the x-rays. And, considering the bio-ports in both hands, I'd be willing to bet real money that those spots are more microchips."

Simon pulled up Stetler's x-rays on the infirmary cortex screen. Looking back and forth from the image to the man, he nodded in agreement with Tora. "Without any further information, I'd assume likewise."

"What do you think they were after in doing this?" the redhead asked, staring at Stetler's face. "And who? _Who_ would do something like this?" disgust laced her voice.

Frowning, Simon peered closer at the cortex screen. "Oh," he said through clenched teeth. "I can think of at least one group that would." His eyes landed on those bright bits that lay directly under the handful of scalp-scars Stetler shared with River. Considering the scans he'd taken at St. Lucy's had shown no evidence of biomechanical microchipping in River, he was working under the assumption that there were two surgeries done: First, a removal of a bit of brain matter in the location where they wished to implant a chip. Then, once it had healed to whatever level the scientists running the program needed, a second surgery to actually implant the circuitry. It made sense, and would account for the slightly thicker nature of the mens' scars when compared with those River possessed. _But why didn't they proceed with the microchips? That is, if I'm even correct in assuming these two men were also products of the Academy._

"You are," River's voice came from the doorway.

Simon spun around while Tora looked up at River and asked, "Who is what, sweetie?"

River ignored the redhead and focused entirely on her brother. "Ni shi zhengque de, gege. Tamen zhizaole laizi diyu de emo." (1)

Simon stepped towards River, but she backed a step away from the infirmary doorway. Giving up on even _trying_ to get her to come in and talk, Simon retreated back to his original position. River did likewise. Though he wanted to ask how she could be so sure, he didn't bother. _She's a psychic. She simply knows stuff. It'd be like asking me what color my shirt is and how I know it's that color. It simply _is_, and there really isn't a good way to explain the particulars on it._ "If that's so, meimei, then…" he couldn't bring himself to ask the rest of the question out loud. _If that's so, then why'd they cut more into you than Waldorf and Stetler? Why do they possess bio-circuitry and you don't?_

The tiniest of smiles pulled at the corners of his sister's mouth in response to Simon's nicknames for the two dead men. "I see what I see and know what I know. But there are two primary underlying principles that address both concerns: One, they were of an earlier generation, both figuratively and literally. Hence, you may safely assume that the science utilized had not yet progressed as far; that the changes they were intent on manifesting within these two's brains were of a slightly less complicated nature than those which they wished to see come to fruition with the latest generations. Secondly, their expectations were, for all intents and purposes, completely obliterated on discovering the unique nature of the mind in question. Traditional treatments were eschewed in favor of new experiments into pushing the limits of this inimitable brain; in seeing whether or not it _had_ any limitations."

Tora could tell that both of the siblings had forgotten her presence. Simon's forehead wrinkled as he took in his sister's words. Tora's own was in a similar state, though the reason was likely very different. _How does she know all that, I wonder?_

_They were trying to make my xiao meimei into… What, exactly? What was their purpose in doing all this? The chips in Stetler and Waldorf are clustered in their left frontal lobes… Pattern recognition in the service of deductive forethought? _His attention was ripped away from his thoughts at River's bright laugh.

Smiling at her brother, she stood framed by the doorway and clapped slowly. "You comprehend. Now do you understand why they are different? Why that inimitable brain was _not_ treated to biomechanical tweaking? She did, _on her own_, what required a minimum of two Gen-Fives to accomplish, _while linked_."

"Then…" _Then why did they cut into you at all? Why strip your amygdala? Why remove those pieces of brain if you were already doing what they wanted?_ Simon slowly sank onto a stool, his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

"The abilities weren't discovered until preliminary steps had been taken. Once noticed, they further discovered the abilities were… unreliable," River said, her smile evaporating. "Prior examples of such ability were located among the archives. A snip here, a slice there." She mimed scissors and a scalpel. "They streamlined the process into reliability, in as much as such abilities can be considered reliable." River shook her head and dropped her hands back to her sides. "They failed to realize that by looking, the outcome has changed."

Simon unclenched one fist and rubbed lightly at his temples. _I am grateful beyond all description that River seems to be having a good day, but why is it I keep forgetting that she's _always_ been able to give me headaches?_ "What?" he asked.

A teeny smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. "The observer effect, as applied to precognitive abilities: By looking at the future, you change it. A person has a dream about the future wherein they are wearing a red shirt; they wake and remember their dream. If they did not like what they saw during the dream, they burn all their red shirts. What was seen has now changed. Time is fluid, more liquid than even oxidane, and small changes now can have drastic and far-reaching effects later."

Simon nodded, slowly, not wanting to reawaken the throbbing within his brain with any sudden movements. "I think I understand. However, River… From what I recall, the limbic system has little to nothing to do with psychic ability."

One of River's eyebrows crept slightly higher than the other and she cocked her head slightly sideways, peering through her hair at her brother. "The amygdala was altered for other reasons. The subject exhibited detrimental physical stress-responses to specific stimuli. They removed the bits which triggered the adrenal gland, allowing the parts which govern the conversion of short-term to long-term memory to remain unaffected. You once said, 'She feels everything. She can't _not_.' This is an oversimplification. Everyone feels everything, whether they want to or not. By removing the bits they did," River paused and closed her eyes. More people were beginning to wake up. Their consciousnesses were starting to push into her own head, disrupting her ability to speak coherently. She sighed and shook her head. "By removing the bits they did, they hoped to make the subject a stronger fighter."

"Fighter?" Simon croaked.

River nodded. "Not all knowledge can be obtained through books, Simon," she said, then disappeared from the doorway in the direction of her room.

Simon simply stared after her.

"What was all that about?" Tora asked, making the doctor jump a little.

Looking over at the woman, Simon shook his head. "You don't want to know, Tora. You really don't want to know."

宁静

"Hey, you dou yan liu koushui jiachong. Got the paperwork all squared away," Henley said, lounging back in his office chair while Jayne scrubbed sleep from his eyes. (2)

Jayne yawned wide enough to make his jaw crack, then refocused his attention on the cortex. "Ain't ya learned yet a body needs _sleep_, huo yan xie shen?" (3)

"'Early to bed' an' all that," Hen laughed off the ages-old argument. "Ya know iffen y'all got any plans ta linger on the trip back?"

Jayne shook his head. "Not 'at I know of. Still about five days out, I reckon, an' then there's the trip over Jiangyin way afore we head on home."

Henley's grin brightened into a full-blown smile on hearing his nephew refer to Persephone as 'home' for the first time in over fifteen years. "That's what? Ten days, this time o'year?"

Jayne nodded. "Near 'nough. Ya already got someone lined up fer the girl's brain?"

It was Hen's turn to nod. "Believe so," he said. "Gloria's hubby seems eager ta volunteer."

Jayne frowned, trying to remember just which man Hen was talking about. "I thought she married a geologist?"

Hen shook his head. "Nope – yer thinkin' on Harmony's man. Gloria married Cody Rakestraw. He's a reconstructive neurologist."

"Ta made, but Tabby had too many gorram girls." Jayne mentioned Harmony and Gloria's mother – one of his older sisters. "What was it at the last count? Ten?"

Hen chuckled. "Yep," he agreed, "an' that ain't countin' the boys. I gotta feel sorry fer the Franklin men – just the three o'em against _eleven_ womenfolk. Them odds just ain't fair."

"While we're on the topic o'family – any new names I gotta add ta the list?" Jayne asked, rummaging around in his top desk drawer for a notebook in which he kept track of his extremely large family.

"Depends," Hen replied. "Who was the last one ya heard 'bout?"

"Valerie an' Judith," Jayne replied, naming two of his many relatives. One was his niece by his oldest brother, Cohen, and the other was another grandniece by way of Carrie, who in turn was yet another of Tabby's many daughters.

"Ah, yeah," Hen said. "Got two more ta add. Gabe an' 'Licia had a girl back on Jan'ary eighth. Nora Leanne Cobb." He waited while Jayne scribbled the information down, then continued, "An' Gloria an' Cody had Pearl Claire on April twelfth." Again, there was a brief pause in the conversation while Jayne noted the information.

"Convenient," Jayne muttered, setting his notebook aside. "We come right back ta Rakestraw. He any good?"

Hen nodded. "From what I hear, he's 'bout the best there is. An' I ain't just talkin' 'bout here on Persephone – he's had offers ta move in ta Sihnon, Londinium, an' Ariel. Gloria won't let 'im accept, though. She don't wanna move 'at far from home an' family."

"I got a copy o'the scans the doc took a few months back," Jayne rummaged in his desk once more for the memory tab. "Dunno iffen it's gonna be much good, but I figured it might be a good idea."

"Send it my way," Hen replied. "I'll get it ta Cody."

Jayne located the tab and stuck it in the port on his cortex. A moment later, and the data was flinging its way through space towards Henley. "Jus' sent." He yawned again. "I'm gonna hafta go, Hen – got crap ta do an' whatnot."

"Coffee ta go find, more like," Henley chuckled. "Talk wi' ya later, huzi." He disconnected the call, leaving Jayne staring at a blank screen. (4)

"Qiangbao houzi de hundan," Jayne fondly grumbled, then scrubbed a hand through his hair. He stretched, then headed for the miniscule shower compartment at the foot of his bed. (5)

宁静

Breakfast was a somewhat subdued affair, what with only Jayne and River not sporting hangovers. River hadn't drank much, and Jayne had never in his life managed to get a hangover from booze; closest he'd ever come to the full-body misery described to him by others was the handful of times he'd been put under a general anesthetic, and even then, it wasn't precisely _painful_, just extremely uncomfortable. After the meal wound to a close, Wash and Zoë set about cleaning up. Simon disappeared downstairs, Kaylee headed to the engine room, and Mal went off to do something-or-other 'captainy'. Jayne decided to spend a little time with his weights – he'd been neglecting them somewhat since leaving Persephone.

Hu, Penn, and Gail met him on the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay. Gail had an electronic book in her hands, and Jayne was smart enough to know the intelligence officer had likely made a few 'additions' to its hardware and software which voided the factory warranty. "Hao, Zhu Cobb," Hu said, looking up from what Gail was pointing out on the reader. "You ni xuyao kan de dongxi." (6)

Seeing that the three highest-ranking members of the Qianfeng were all extraordinarily tense, Jayne ambled up. "Shenme shi cuo de?" (7)

Gail handed him the e-book. "I was going over the intel we hijacked from that Whirlwind and found this," she said.

Jayne's eyes scanned what appeared to be a list of communiqués between the dead bastards that had been following Serenity and a home-base. "Ta made," he breathed. "Ruttin' hundans." He glanced up at Hu. "Ya contact the Hall 'bout this? Henley oughta hear 'bout it."

"Not as yet, Zhu Cobb," Hu replied. "I had wished to get your opinion on it before doing anything drastic."

"I ain't even read more 'an just a bit here, an' I can already see we got us a major breach-of-contract," Jayne replied. "'Twere anybody else, an' we wouldn't be here jawin' on it, they'd already be black-balled, maybehap e'en killed." He let out a sigh. "Damn interplanetary coporations're all outta control – they's just the worst o'the lot."

Penn nodded in agreement. "It don't help matters any that Blue Sun's got more strings leadin' into Parliament than anyone else, either," he commented. "Try and go after them, and it'll be the Alliance what answers."

"Zhu Cobb, if I might make a suggestion?" Hu said, his voice revealing the mischievous streak that Jayne recalled rumors of, back at the Hall.

"Nin de xiangfa shi shenme, Hu?" Jayne asked. (8)

"If we go the traditional route with this, it will be like playing piñata with a hornet's nest," Hu replied. "I'm thinking an all-out Council needs be called."

Jayne winced. "That bad?" He answered his own question without waiting for a reply. "Yeah, o'course it's that bad." Handing the e-book back to Gloria, Jayne straightened up to his full height. "Unner Article Thirteen, Kyoshi Shen Hu, I'm assumin' command o'the Qianfeng. Fanbo?" (9)

Hu mirrored Jayne's precision-posture. "Women shi ni de zhihui, Hanshi Cobb," he said, drawing the bowie knife all Guildsmen wore on their hips and offering it, hilt-first, to Jayne. (10)

Jayne took the offered knife and used it to slice a shallow cut on the back of his left arm, then rolled the handle in the beads of welling blood from the cut before handing it back to Hu. "Hu, yer wi' me. Penn, Clark – you two see iffen y'all can't find us more intel."

"Shi de, xiansheng," Gail and Penn managed simultaneously, then hurried down the stairs. (11)

Jayne turned on his heels and headed back up to the galley where he found Wash and Zoë were finishing up the last of the dishes. "Got a sit'ation, Wash," Jayne barked, causing both the pilot and his wife to startle some and whirl around.

"What might that be, Jayne?" Zoë asked, somewhat unnerved at the merc's voice. Somehow, in the course of the previous ten minutes, he'd managed to attain the same tonality she'd last heard from a major during the war; a tone which commanded complete obedience. She didn't much like it.

"We're turnin' around," Jayne replied. "Might wanna tell the captain," he said, heading towards the bridge with the mercenary commander at his heels.

Jayne and Hu arrived on the bridge to find River sitting in the copilot chair and messing around with one of the coffee-can crybabies Wash and Kaylee cobbled together for use as decoys when on illegal salvage jobs. "Ten minutes," she said, not looking up from her task.

Hu looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing. "Isn't that the pulse-beacon from the Whirlwind?"

She nodded. "Confuse the issue. Buys time." A small stream of smoke drifted up from the soldering pen she held, affixing a new set of microchips to the cobbled-together bit of gadgetry. "Can't hit what isn't there."

"Sound strategy," Hu said, then looked to Jayne. "However, I doubt she is needed for the upcoming action."

Jayne smirked. "Nah, she's alright. Ain't too often a 'prentice gets the chance ta see Article Thirteen in action." He looked past Hu at the girl and opened his mouth, but River spoke before he could.

"Quiet, like little mice in church. Understood _and_ comprehended. Concentration on the task will negate curiosity for a short time, but knowing the proper time for questions is an asset. I am _not_ Simon."

"Never said ya was, li'l bit," Jayne replied. He powered up the cortex while they waited for Wash. By the time it had finished booting, the pilot finally showed, followed by both Zoë and Mal.

"What's this about turnin' around?" Mal blustered. "Thought we was headin' ta Ita – it's what we got paid for, an' I ain't about ta welch on that much cashy money."

While Wash slipped through the now-crowded space to his chair, Hu explained, "The payment received is yours, Captain Reynolds. Zhu Cobb has enacted Article Thirteen of the Guild's laws; it covers a great deal, but the pertinent entry for your concerns is thus: all current contracts have been temporarily suspended until further investigation can be completed. We need to return to Persephone."

"Come again?" Mal blinked at the man.

"They found some innerstin' intel aboard the Whirlwind, cap'n," Jayne said, leaning against the row of lockers. "Blue Sun's behind sendin' them two after us. From their message-log, they knew we was transportin' Guildsmen. They had orders ta fire on us, iffen them hundans thought it necessary. Now, since Blue Sun's also hired Guildsmen fer that wuyong gorram fang pi gou shi fengbao on Ita, an' them messages make it clear they didn't care none iffen all o'us died, _an'_ they had no idea iffen we was transportin' men hired by them or Kepler, 'at makes Blue Sun in breach-o'contract. Since they ain't 'xactly _little_, we got us a major issue. Callin' Council ta inform 'em on what we found." (12)

River finished tinkering with the crybaby and peered up at a very confused Mal. She let out a small laugh. "One too many strikes," she said. "Your coat might yet see more of the use for which it had been intended."

Zoë felt a chill rush down her spine, but Wash spoke before she could say anything. "What? I'm extremely confused. I don't like being confused."

"Turn us around, Wash," Jayne said. "Look – the Guild's been havin' a heap o'trouble wi' Blue Sun. Their jobs ain't never what they claim. Only reason, I'm thinkin', on why the Guild accepted this latest contract is simply 'cause that mess on Ita's old news."

Hu took a metaphorical step into the conversation. "Allow me," he said. Jayne nodded and closed his mouth, his lips compressed into a thin line. Hu nodded in thanks. "You understand that every contract served through the Guild has rules governing both sides, correct?"

Zoë and Wash nodded, and Mal said, "Makes sense."

"Blue Sun has a long history of – not precisely _breaking_ those rules – but _bending_ them. As a result, their contracts have more stringent regulations than nearly any other entity we contract with. One of those additions is a direct result of a… Well, _they_ considered it an accident, but our own investigation indicated it was no such thing. Nearly twenty good men died at one of their factories. The job had been to guard the product – in this case, protein bars manufactured for Alliance distribution. There was a fire. The plant manager, acting under orders from one of the conglomerate's board of directors, ordered the Guildsmen to save the finished product. Of thirty-five men, only sixteen made it out of the plant alive. This was, oh, close to thirty years ago. Since that time, any contract with Blue Sun has included a clause that states that the company cannot knowingly place a Guildsman into a position where death is a certainty. Dong ma?"

The non-Guildsmen present nodded. "Yeah," Mal said. "What's that ta do with turnin' around, though?"

Hu made a 'wait a moment' gesture. "Now, both Blue Sun and Kepler, Inc. hired Guildsmen for the conflict on Ita. However, they simply placed orders for a specific number and type of mercenaries. They have no way of knowing from where these Guildsmen will be sent. The fact that myself and the other Qianfeng wound up under the Kepler contract was simply due to a stroke of a pen and nothing more. Blue Sun doesn't know that, though, and from the information located on the Whirlwind, they simply didn't care. They were after someone or something noted simply as 'the Subject' in their correspondences. Those two men had a blatant kill order, neatly phrased as 'sanitation', for anyone _not_ their target."

"I think I'm beginnin' ta see where you're goin'," Mal said.

Hu nodded. "Precisely. And this is one breach too many. Unfortunately, Blue Sun is simply too large to deal with as we typically would. So, Zhu Cobb is calling a Council to relay this latest information and, hopefully, decide on a course of action against the company."

"Is that wise?" Zoë asked. "They have an awful lot of Alliance muckety-mucks in their back pockets."

"Yet something else which will be addressed during the Council," Hu replied.

Jayne wormed his way around Mal and Zoë and Hu in order to reach the cortex screen. "Iffen y'all'd wait a bit, I need ta wave Henley. Let 'im know what's goin' on."

It didn't take but a moment for the call to connect. "Jayne?" Hen said, his voice laced with suspicion on seeing not just a second call in a single day from his nephew, but seeing Hu and Captain Reynolds lurking in the background. "Something tells me this isn't a social call."

Jayne let out an undignified snort. "Hell, Hen – what give ya that idea?"

"Anyone's next o'kin need notifyin'?"

Jayne shook his head. "Not that easy, Hen." The big man cleared his throat. "Konnichiwa, hajime mashite?" (13)

Henley's eyes grew large and round on the screen. He coughed. "Uh… Wakarimashita." (14)

Jayne nodded once. "Toki wa kane nari." (15)

Henley closed his eyes. "Wakarimashita," he said. "You ain't never done anythin' by halves, have ya?"

Jayne smirked. "Ain't in m'nature, Hen. See ya," he said, switching off the connection. He turned around to see three of his crewmates blinking at him. "What?"

"What was _that_?" Wash managed the question first.

River answered, "Coded codes. A language nearly no one knows." She climbed out of the copilot's chair and ducked past the others clogging the path to the door, humming lightly to herself and carrying her modified crybaby under one arm.

Once she was gone, Mal repeated, "I'm with Wash – what was _that_?"

"The fengle girl bein' fengle?" Jayne offered with a fake grin the size of Heinlein. At continued disbelief from the crew, he let the grin go and shrugged. "Like she said, it's a coded message. Guild uses Japanese – what Kaylee calls Nippon – quite a bit. Chinese fer all the official pihua, English fer the day-ta-day, an' Japanese fer the rest o'it. Ain't many folks outside universities what bother ta learn it no more." (16)

宁静

Regardless of the amount of effort already expended in tracking down the kidnapped subject, the Operative always preferred to do his own footwork. He often located clues and other vital information that previous investigators had overlooked; it was how he'd managed to attain his current zero-defeat record. He had yet to fail a mission.

He began with the basics. He read up on the available records, both medical and educational, for both Simon and River Tam. The former was only of importance in that he had successfully managed to remove his sister from the Academy. Rumors – granted, they were of a more substantial nature than most, but were still simply rumors – placed the elder Tam sibling still in close proximity with his sister. Ergo, it would be a good idea to have some sort of idea as to the nature of the boy.

The girl's records were far more fascinating. He could understand why the Academy had taken an interest in her. What intrigued him most was how it had been noted in her entrance interview with the Academy that her parents hadn't wanted her to attend; one of the interviewer's notes stated that the girl had 'begged' for the opportunity.

Enclosed within the Academy records were copies of all of the girl's correspondence. Frowning, the Operative noticed the misspelled words. _Who was charged with monitoring her mail? They obviously need to locate more appropriate employment. _Though none of the names or activities mentioned within the letters meant much to him, he could easily take the misspelled words and break them apart. _'They're hurting us. Get me out.' Cunning, Miss Tam, but it shouldn't have been allowed past the censors. It is a code any half-awake screener should have been able to spot from a mile away._

Finishing up with the files themselves, he headed to the Academy. He wished to see the particulars on just how Simon had managed to infiltrate the facility and make off with his sister.

* * *

**A/N2:** I hope this makes sense and there aren't any glaring inconsistencies with prior chapters – I was intending to reread what I'd posted thus far before writing, but didn't really have the time to do so. I figured y'all would want _something_ – even if I have to come back later to correct bits – than _nothing_ for another couple of days.

Translations are as follows:

1.) _Ni shi zhengque de, gege. Tamen zhizaole laizi diyu de emo._ – 'You are correct, brother. They are manufactured demons from Hell.', translation by Google.

2.) _Dou yan liu koushui jiachong_ – 'cross-eyed drooling beetle', translation by Google.

3.) _Huo yan xie shen_ – 'evil spirit', translation by Wikipedia.

4.) _Huzi_ – 'tiger' (affectionate, parental), translation by Laowaichinese-dot-net.

5.) _Qiangbao houzi de hundan_ – 'monkey raping bastard', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

6.) _Hao, You ni xuyao kan de dongxi_ – 'good', 'there is something you need to see', translations by Google.

7.) _Shenme shi cuo de_ – 'what's wrong', translation by Google.

8.) _Nin de xiangfa shi shenme_ – 'what's on your mind', translation by Google.

9.) _Fanbo_ – 'rebuttal', translation by Google.

10.) _Women shi ni de zhihui_ – 'we are yours to command', translation by Google.

11.) _Shi de, xiansheng_ – 'yes sir', translation by Google.

12.) _Wuyong, Fang pi, Gou shi fengbao _ – 'useless', 'bullshit', 'shitstorm', translations by Wikipedia and Google.

13.) _Konnichiwa, hajime mashite_ – 'good afternoon, how do you do', translation by Subliminal Japanese, by Louis Aarons, Ph.D. (ISBN 0-07-144366-5).

14.) _Wakarimashita_ – 'I understand', translation by Subliminal Japanese, by Louis Aarons, Ph.D. (ISBN 0-07-144366-5).

15.) _Toki wa kane nari_ – 'time is money', translation by Subliminal Japanese, by Louis Aarons, Ph.D. (ISBN 0-07-144366-5).

16.) _Pihua_ – 'bullshit', translation by Wikipedia.


End file.
